


Stormfronts

by DiNozzos_Probie, divakat



Category: NCIS
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Tony, First Time, Hurt Gibbs, Hurt Tony, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Natural Disasters, Romance, Sex Toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-12
Updated: 2015-07-02
Packaged: 2018-03-30 04:03:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 112,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3922159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DiNozzos_Probie/pseuds/DiNozzos_Probie, https://archiveofourown.org/users/divakat/pseuds/divakat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How far would you go to get to someone you loved? A storm descends on DC and one man will risk it all. In this story, the rescue is only the beginning. </p><p>Tibbs Slash with a heavy dose of cliffies and hurt heroes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Cross posted from our TopToBottomTibbs fanfic account, this is a complete story which is being transferred over. This is sort of a unique fic. In the beginning we took turns alternating chapters until we brought our characters together. Later chapters are often half one author, half the other. You will see very different styles of writing which are fairly easily distinguishable. One author wrote the scenes in Tony's nominal POV and voice, the other stuck solely to Gibbs', and we each took turns with some short scenes in other character POV's when necessary.
> 
> Hatched over a twitter conversation one night last year, we were really awed by how much people seemed to love this story. We hope you feel the same!

****

Tony tapped absently at the piano keys, felt their slick, cool surfaces slip beneath his fingertips without paying much heed to the sounds that emerged.

The room around him disappeared. He disappeared. Couldn’t feel anymore, hear anymore, see anymore. Nothing but the memory. Nothing but the taste and smell and-God help him- the _feel_ of the man he could not get out of his brain no matter how hard he tried lately.

Tony didn’t do this. He didn’t pine, or daydream, or shudder at the memory of a firm hand against the base of his spine, of the heat of that splayed palm seeping through his skin. He didn’t do it with women, he certainly didn’t do it with men, and he most decidedly did not do it with Leroy Jethro Gibbs.

Women were a challenge, a game he played when he wanted soft curves and platitudes, gentle caresses and silken skin after the thrill of the chase. Men he fucked- sometimes the other way around depending on his particular appetites-but that was where it ended.

But Gibbs…Gibbs was in a different category. Kind of a ‘No Way in Hell’ category in Tony’s mind. Boss, definitely, respected leader, certainly, trusted friend…after the last few months he was pretty sure he had to slide this one into the affirmative as well, but beyond that, well, it wasn’t even an option.

And yet here he was, drowning in his own melancholia, stewing in his own wretched cowardice and indecision, his seeming inability to let things be as they had been.  It wouldn’t be so frustrating if he could find a way to move backward or forward, to let this _thing_ that had his heart and his head and his stomach all tied in one big knot either unravel or coalesce into whatever it was going to be. But his arms were heavy and his feet were hopelessly stuck to the floor and he couldn’t _move_ anymore for fear of tripping over his own uncertainty.

He wasn’t supposed to be here.

Not tonight.

This was the first Friday evening he had spent in his own apartment in…well, it had been months, certainly. In truth he’d lost track of the whens and hows and whys of the regular ritual he had begun with Gibbs. He couldn’t remember who’d started it, who’d continued it, but he knew that it had become almost as necessary to him as air, as vital as the blood that pumped hard and hot through his veins.

And tonight he was alone. Alone when he wanted to run. Not from something as he had done for the majority of his life, but _towards…_ he didn’t really know what yet. All he knew was that the only thing in the world he wanted was to get in his car and drive, walk through the door that was always open to him, descend into the cool depths of that old, slightly musty house, and fill his lungs with the warm, soothing scent of Gibbs. Of sweat and coffee and Bourbon and varnish and sweet sweet sawdust.

It had been an odd day.

It had started that morning when he’d been woken up by the first wet dream he could remember having since he was a horny teenager. He’d lay panting in the darkness, tangled and trembling in hopelessly soiled sheets, stiff cock still spurting out the echoes of the pleasurable convulsions that had jolted him from a restless slumber where damp flesh moved and writhed beneath his searching hands, soft lips danced across his skin, and a stiff cock- _oh, GOD, he was dreaming about the man’s cock-_ had thrust against his own until…until…

This wasn’t one of those dreams that started out normal and ended up with an alien and a dinosaur sharing pizza with you in your living room. This started and finished with a very naked, very physical Leroy Jethro Gibbs and had felt real from beginning to end.

Too real, it appeared.

Tony had tried to shake it off, had tried to let the memories fade before he went to work but every time he closed his eyes he was there again, back in the throes, back in the firm and desperate embrace of Gibbs’ arms. Shit, he’d had to jack off again in the shower just to make sure he didn’t come in his pants the first time he saw the guy.

He’d felt it coming of course, had tried to ignore the warning signs. But as they spent more and more time together, as their comfortable moments turned into comfortable hours and occasionally whole days, there was no denying it. Despite his best efforts, despite his better judgment, despite every voice in his head _screaming_ at him that _THIS WAS NOT SOMETHING HE COULD HAVE,_ he was falling, and he was falling hard.

It had started so slowly. A few innocent sweeps of the older man’s fingertips when he passed him a beer that sent jolts of electricity up his spine,  a warm hand on his back that lingered familiarly as Jethro pointed out something he’d missed on the project he’d given him, the slow drip of a bead of sweat down Gibbs’ neck, past the hollow of his throat that pulled at Tony’s eyes, made him follow the progress of that tiny drop beneath the frayed edge of a t-shirt, all the while wondering what it would taste like on the tip of his tongue.

And Gibbs was oblivious. At least Tony hoped to hell he was.

But there was something. He didn’t believe it was wholly his imagination.

A few times he’d caught Gibbs studying him. Maybe across the bullpen, or at a scene, more often than not on quiet Sundays in each other’s company after a rough weekend on call while they watched whatever game sounded best over a couple of beers on the couch. But it was happening more frequently lately and in those odd and unexpected moments, Tony had been surprised by the expression on the older man’s face, the furrow of his brow that said he was struggling with something, trying to solve a puzzle he’d never encountered before, and those brief and bare seconds had given him a kind of hope. The kind of hope that was decidedly dangerous to have around a man like Gibbs because Tony was pretty sure he wasn’t going to be able to hide it effectively for very much longer. If he even was now.

The dream had been the clincher for him. The glaring warning beacon that said he needed some space, time to cool off before things really got out of hand, and since he couldn’t just skip out on work, that left him with only one option.

He’d hated to do it really. Since they’d started hanging out regularly he’d never once cancelled. And it wasn’t like they had a formal plan or anything. It was just _assumed_ that it was a Friday night that they weren’t on call and Tony would be over after he’d showered, changed, and grabbed a six pack. What they did didn’t seem to matter to him or to Gibbs, only that they did it together. And the crazy thing about it was that Gibbs had looked _disappointed_ when he’d mentioned that he had other plans for the evening. For the whole weekend, in fact. Tony wanted desperately to believe that he was seeing things but there was really no mistaking it. He’d seen surprise on the older man’s face in the bare instant before he could school his features and hide the reaction. Surprise and…hurt. Both so quick and so sharp that he could _almost_ convince himself they were never there.

After that, Tony had caught Gibbs looking at him a few times during the day. Giving him those few extra searching seconds when he’d come to give a report, the opening to explain _why._ But Tony had turned away each time, feeling the words, the confession, burning in his throat.

A flash of light out the window brought him back to the present and he realized the room had grown remarkably dark around him. For a moment he was half-convinced he had become lost in thought for hours rather than minutes, but the ticking clock on the wall said that that it was only 7PM, far too early for sunset in late June.

Another flash and he understood, turned full body to watch the angry roiling clouds that seemed to be moving like a low and encroaching wall toward the deeper heart of the city from the southwest.

Tony wasn’t really surprised. He hadn’t bothered to listen to a weather forecast but the air around him today had felt thick and heavy, warm even for early summer, and there was a sense of anticipation hanging over everything. He’d chalked that feeling up to his own mental state but as he pressed his palm to the window, felt it vibrate with the echoes of a deep roll of thunder, he knew he’d been feeling the build of this storm without realizing it.

He had a pretty spectacular view from his 6th floor apartment. There weren’t many high rise buildings between him and the Potomac and its valley spread out below him, allowing him to take in a broad vista of green parks mixed in with various forms of development and watch the storm’s approach from the Southwest.

The color of the light outside was strange and he was half-tempted to go out there, to feel the energy of what appeared to be a pretty nasty storm as it bore down on him, to let the tempest raging  inside him be one with that power. For just a moment he closed his eyes and let it flow through him, felt the tremble and the rush as it moved closer. His skin prickled and twitched, hairs standing on end as the room continued to darken.

Tony jumped as a bolt of lightning struck ground somewhere immediately to his south. Thunder rolled, audible even through triple insulated windows this time. There was suddenly something sharper about it than a gentle spring storm, something more ominous and insistent that forced him back from the glass.

His eyes were drawn to the ground where people scurried by in business suits, carrying brief cases and stopping to glance nervously at the sky above them at every menacing rumble. A group of school children in neatly pressed uniforms were quickly led by a harried looking parent or teacher –he had no idea which-into another apartment building at the end of the block. Something seemed off about the whole scene and Tony noticed that the trees lining his street stood almost unnaturally limp and still in stark contrast to the bustling activity and fast building storm. He immediately had a sense of foreboding he couldn’t explain, a sense he had learned to trust no matter how irrational it seemed. He was about to turn on his television and watch a weather report when his lights flickered and surged, flickered and went out again, plunging the apartment into eerily green darkness.

“Shit,” he muttered, stepping carefully as he waited for his eyes to adjust to the change in illumination. Tony glanced back out the window. A moment ago he’d been able to see lights in apartments and businesses around him, streetlights on earlier than they should be. Now there was only darkness. To his north a faint glow told him there was likely power in other areas but to his south he saw nothing but the grey outlines of lifeless structures.

There was a flashlight and a battery operated radio under his kitchen sink, habits of preparedness instilled in him by Gibbs and maintained by experience. He made his way around the piano by feel and grabbed his cell from where he’d left it, resting on the bench.

He had made it half way across the living room before a flash of light blinded him temporarily. His bare toes met something cold, hard, and heavy and he cursed, nearly losing his balance. Flexing his foot to assure himself that nothing was broken, he continued his journey into the deeper darkness of the kitchen where the almost non-existent light from the windows did not penetrate.

Moving by memory alone, he retrieved the two items he sought without further incident, somehow comforted when the Maglite’s strong beam brought light to the shadows around him.

A sound caught his ear and took a moment to register. The distant wail of a siren pierced the heavily soundproofed building but just barely. Tony’s brain finally lit on the source of the unfamiliar howl and he sprang into action on instinct.

Tornado sirens rang in the city from time to time, once a year or so at least. Most of the time he took note of them, stayed on alert, but didn’t feel the need to take things any further. Now, as his windows began to rattle ominously, it was clear this threat needed to be heeded a bit more seriously than most.

The first thing he did was to turn on the radio and set it on the kitchen table as he moved about other tasks. The receiver was already tuned to the emergency alert station so a droning voice immediately greeted him in the middle of its looping message.

_‘…for Southern Fairfax County and all of the Washington D.C. metro area until 8:05PM Eastern Time. National Weather Service radar indicates a line of intense thunderstorm activity moving in a line from the Southwest at 35 miles per hour. At 7:15PM a trained spotter reported a large funnel cloud accompanying this storm system near Springfield. The storms are expected to impact the following areas: Springfield, Falls Church, Alexandria, Arlington, Washington D.C….’_

The rest registered in the back of his brain as he crammed his go-bag with extra water, a few protein bars, another flashlight, a more heavy duty first aid kit, all things he hoped he didn’t need. The voice continued to warn of damaging straight line winds, baseball sized hail, and torrential downpours, but he had heard enough. Enough to know that the sixth floor of a building with a solid wall of windows wasn’t necessarily the safest place for him to be when the threat was this certain.

When he’d fit all he could into his bag and grabbed the radio, he made one last sweep of the apartment with the flashlight before heading out. With any luck at all the storm would blow by and this was all for naught, but he had a bad feeling about this one in his gut and he wasn’t willing to wait it out.

Other tenants-he didn’t really think of them as his neighbors since he’d never taken the time to get to know them- were out in the hallway talking to each other, looking nervously between the bank of elevators and the windows at the end of the corridor.

“Use the stairs, everyone to the basement as quickly as you can,” Tony said in a loud, authoritative voice as he moved through them.

The funny thing about people is that, in a crisis, every one of them is looking for someone who will take charge. Today, Tony was that person.

He didn’t have to look back to know that people were following him. He could hear the woman with the yapping dog from 616, the bickering elderly couple from 622, all close on his heels. And Tony wore authority well. Maybe he wasn’t intending to, maybe he didn’t want to, but it was his now whether he liked it or not and he held the heavy stairwell door, waiting for the last of his fellow apartment dwellers to begin their rapid descent before he started down himself.

Tony took a moment to stop on street level and get a look outside as the rest of the group continued down another flight and could easily see that the storm was on them in earnest now. The ground outside the front stoop was white, littered with varying sized chunks of ice that rained down from above and bounced off whatever they struck before settling on the concrete and the noise was like nothing he had ever heard.

Color suddenly caught his eye through the downpour, a battered umbrella clutched by a woman clinging desperately to the trunk of a large tree and trying to take shelter. He immediately ran to the door and pushed it open against the resistance of howling wind, only to have it ripped from his hand by a counter gust. It crashed against the side of the building and shattered, showering the sidewalk with safety glass fragments. Leaves and small branches rained down around him as he beckoned to the petrified woman who appeared too scared to move from her current position. Closer inspection revealed that she was bleeding from a cut on her forehead and that her clothing was torn in a few places.

Cursing his own damn overdeveloped sense of responsibility, Tony dropped his bag in the now-open foyer near the bank of mailboxes, hiked his NCIS slicker up over his head as a completely ineffective shield against the hail, and dashed out into the storm. He half-carried the crying woman back to the shelter of the building and just made it inside as a thick bolt of lightning hit far closer than he was comfortable with and sent them fleeing deeper into the lobby with the sting of ozone in their nostrils and the deafening crash of thunder on their heels.

“You’re gonna have to let go of me, okay?” Tony said calmly to his rescued storm victim who had flung her arms tightly around his neck and was clinging to him desperately while speaking very rapidly in a language he couldn’t understand but which sounded pretty close to Chinese.

With a sigh, he pried damp fingers from around his neck, retrieved his bag and then made a hasty retreat to the stairwell with his new best friend in tow. For the first time he noticed several other tenants milling around the first floor. He didn’t recognize any of them but they were all staring at him in wide-eyed astonishment as he dripped water all over the rich marble.

“Basement. Now,” he said simply, once again holding the door open as at least a dozen people in various states of dress filtered through. Some had flashlights, some carried small pets, but they all went without question as the thunder crashed again over the continued wail of sirens and gusts of wind blew sheets of rain through the now non-existent door.

Tony could feel the weight of the cell phone in his pocket. There was one call he was dying to make, one voice he needed to hear to tell him that his world was okay but it would have to wait.

_Gibbs…_


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A major storm is brewing! This chapter is from Gibbs' POV!

The late June air was thick, heavy, and still. According to the nasally voiced female news anchor on the radio, a line of powerful thunderstorms was fast approaching and was projected to hit the D.C. metro area and surrounding suburbs within the next two hours. A pair of staff meteorologists was brought in to educate the populace on storm track models, wind velocities, dew points, inflow, outflow, and bow echoes showing up on Doppler radar.

Gibbs tuned out most of the banal chit-chat but snorted at the rather dramatic announcement that "the National Weather Service had just upgraded the current severe thunderstorm watch for southern Fairfax County and the D.C. metro area to a tornado watch". Thunderstorms were common this time of year, often reaching severe status with high winds, heavy rain, and hail, so he didn't pay much attention to the meteorologists' ominous warning to be prepared for the worst and to know when to immediately seek shelter.

"Yeah, no shit," he muttered before turning the knob on the dash to silence the grating voices running down their bullet point list of 'dos and don'ts' during severe weather.

The windshield wipers beat out a steady tempo keeping his field of vision clear from the light steady rain that had begun to fall. Gibbs slowed to only slightly over the posted speed limit as he navigated the all too familiar streets that would lead him home. Home. In truth, the roads would lead him to a two story suburban Alexandria, Virginia house, which he hadn't considered a home for the better part of twenty years. No longer full of love and a child's laughter, it was just the place where his mail was delivered and where he slept - alone.

Each attempt to recapture the idea of home and family had failed spectacularly. Cheap copies of Shannon paraded through his life over the years, some sticking around longer than others, but none of them ever found a place in his heart. He had tried to move on, to start over and live again, but all he could manage was to go through the motions. Three failed marriages were proof enough that he wasn't ready or willing to give his heart to anyone - until now.

Aside from Jackson, the only people Gibbs thought of as family were Tony, McGee, Ziva, Abby, Ducky, and even to some degree, Jimmy Palmer. The last time he had seen any of his blood relatives was at Shannon and Kelly's funeral. Those that bothered to show up to pay their respects were little comfort to him then, and he didn't give any of them much thought now. Jackson kept him apprised of any family news he caught wind of, but Gibbs really wasn't interested. Each member of his dysfunctional NCIS family meant more to him than any of his aunts, uncles, or cousins ever did.

His true home, or so he wished and frequently fantasized, was miles away in the form of his gorgeous Italian Senior Field Agent. When he began developing more than platonic feelings for the interminably annoying, womanizing former frat boy, Gibbs could not say. It could have been when Tony came dangerously close to dying after contracting pneumonic plague, or perhaps it was more recently when a very attractive young FBI agent turned his non-too subtle attention to him during a charity FBI/NCIS flag football game.

Tony was a master at the art of flirting and gave as good as he got, but it was the provocative way Agent Ty Mills sidled up to him that sparked Gibbs' jealousy. Over a few pitchers of beer courtesy of the losing FBI team, Gibbs sat across the table and paid close attention to Mills, whose eyes rarely left Tony and whose chair crept ever closer to him. Tony's only reaction to the invasion of his personal space was a polite smile. If Tony had any interest in Mills, he gave nothing away.

It wasn't until the following Monday morning at work after some sibling-like teasing from McGee about the folded napkin he saw Mills stuff into Tony's track suit jacket pocket that Tony fessed up.

"Well yeah, of course it's flattering when someone slips you their phone number McNosey, but he's not exactly my type," Tony declared, hazarding a glance across the bullpen to find Gibbs staring at him.

Gibbs had never considered the possibility that Tony might be anything other than straight, if the stories of his conquests were to be believed, so he wasn't sure what to make of the pointed look and subtle smile directed at him. Gibbs couldn't help but wonder if he had given off a possessive vibe at the bar.

Almost from the day they first met, Tony had seamlessly insinuated himself into Gibbs' life. Probably not intentionally, but since Tony started working under him their relationship seemed to be in a constant state of flux. There was a certain symmetry and sense of co-dependency in play that had never truly been defined. Were they simply respected boss and competent subordinate, mentor and student, friends and trusted colleagues, or was there something more to be discovered? Gibbs wanted and needed to know, and he suddenly felt hopeful.

Over the last few months, they had started spending more and more time together outside of work. What had started innocently enough as Supervisory Agent meeting with Senior Field Agent to discuss ways to make their well-rounded team even better opened the door to opportunities to really get to know the man, the loyal Saint Bernard who had been by his side and on his six for a decade. Like everything with Gibbs, it started out hesitant and cautious with absolutely no expectations.

Invitations by Gibbs to stop by for cowboy-style steaks became more frequent as did Tony showing up at semi-regular intervals with either a cold six-pack or a pizza, or sometimes both, in hand ostensibly to watch a football or baseball game with him. One Friday afternoon, Gibbs made a comment about spending his first weekend off in ages doing much needed yardwork, which resulted in Tony showing up Saturday morning, armed with a box of assorted donuts and a large thermos of gourmet dark roast coffee, to offer his services.

With no idea what the younger man was thinking or feeling about the gradual shift in their relationship, Gibbs wisely chose to tread carefully. He wanted to be damn sure where he stood before risking the most important relationship, if one dared call it that, in his otherwise lonely life. Overstepping or misreading any subtle tells and cryptic signals could lead to disaster, a risk Gibbs wasn't sure he could take. If Tony was meant to be nothing more than his most trusted friend, so be it. He would hate it, but he would learn to live with it.

To Gibbs, Tony had always been an enigma; a walking, talking totally unique jumble of contradiction. He could shift from behaving like a sophomoric adolescent to extremely competent investigator within the span of seconds. His playful, prankster, movie quoting persona could be, and often was, extremely irritating yet proved to be a very effective training tool.

After years of being subjected to Tony's harmless though often demeaning form of hazing, McGee had finally grown a backbone and began to assert himself. Getting one over on his annoying superior ranking teammate, while earning a rare "atta boy" from the Boss for being the one to uncover the big case-breaking clue, gave McGee a much needed confidence boost. Tony's unique brand of training wasn't lost on Gibbs, either. Intentional or not, Tony earned each and every head slap, but the tiny hint of a Cheshire cat grin on his face when McGee scored a win told Gibbs everything. More times than not, McGee only broke the case after Tony artfully led him right to the missing piece of the puzzle.

Ziva was a tougher nut to crack, so competent Tony took over to mentor her and build her skills as an investigator. It took a few years of patient guidance to help her see things as a cop instead of as a Mossad-trained ninja assassin. When the situation called for it, Tony happily let her do the heavy lifting when her Kidon skills were needed. He knew she was tough and positively lethal with or without an arsenal of weapons at her disposal, but he saw so much more. She was both beautiful and intelligent, which often caused suspects to underestimate her. Tony pushed and coached her to trust her instincts, to read between the lines, and to always look past the obvious. She proved to be a quick study.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Pulling into the garage, Gibbs switched off the ignition and listened to the cooling tick of the Challenger's engine. He pressed the button of the garage door opener attached to the visor, closed his eyes, and sighed tiredly. His gut was in knots, but he couldn't pinpoint exactly why. Climbing out of the car he decided that barring Tony having a last minute change of heart, tonight would be a good night to lose himself in his unconventional method of meditation - sanding the newly constructed hull of the boat.

The first order of business when he walked into kitchen from the garage was to start a pot of coffee. Bourbon, boat and basement normally went together, but his churning gut told him he needed to be alert and not numbed by booze. He made his way through the dining room and living room in the relative darkness of the stormy late afternoon while the coffee brewed and headed up the stairs to change his clothes.

Brilliant flashes of lightning followed by loud rumbles of thunder in the distance signaled the impending arrival of the thunderstorm as Gibbs changed into a beat up pair of cut off jean shorts and a faded paint and varnish stained t-shirt. Crew-length socks and a pair of Timberland boots completed the ensemble. He chuckled as he tied the boot laces. The first time Tony had seen him decked out in his standard woodworking gear, he declared Gibbs to be a "walking fashion disaster."

Thermal travel mug in hand, Gibbs flipped the switch on the wall and sipped his hot, black as tar coffee as he descended the stairs. A few bare 75-watt light bulbs screwed into bases affixed to the overhead floor joists cast plenty of light without being harsh or glaring. Strictly out of habit, he switched on the old 13-inch black and white TV he kept on a shelf across the room from his workbench. He was greeted by the opening applause of a studio audience to a Doctor Somebody he had never heard of. The TV was just there as background noise until the local evening news came on.

Running his hand over the newly placed boards Gibbs determined that 80-grit sandpaper was in order. The feel of the bare virgin wood under his bare hand immediately grounded him. His careful and reverent examination was tantamount to caressing a new lover for the first time. Each knot and imperfection in the grain was a unique characteristic that he could shape and tame with his skilled hands.

His earlier thoughts faded away as he became in tune with the wood while he sanded. Beads of sweat began to form on his brow as he became solely focused on the task at hand. His muscles rippled and danced beneath the thin cotton of his shirt, which began sticking to his sweaty chest and back. Except for being caught in the throes of making almost animalistic passionate love, there was no better workout in the world.

Gibbs ignored the increasing flashes of lightning and shorter intervals before the thunder followed as he concentrated on one board that seemed unwilling to bend to his will. The TV signal was lost a few times after particularly intense flashes of lightning, but that was nothing new. The old Quasar had long outlived its life expectancy, but it normally took only a swift smack or two to the side and top to fix the vertical or horizontal hold when it acted up.

After making a second trip upstairs to refill his coffee, Gibbs wondered if he should call Tony but quickly dismissed the idea. As far as he knew Tony hadn't canceled their plans because of a date. Last he heard, according to Abby anyway, Tony had decided to take a break from dating. Maybe that was why he was showing up at his house more frequently, sitting on the stairs or on a dusty sawhorse, chatting about everything and nothing while he worked on the boat. Leaning back against the counter, Gibbs sighed and stared blankly at the floor as the storm continued to rage outside the window beside him. No, obviously Tony had other plans he didn't want to share, or maybe he just wanted a night to himself, or maybe, just maybe, Tony was just as confused about where things stood.

For a brief time, Gibbs had suspected that something was going on between Tony and Ziva. After their respective disastrous relationships with E.J. Barrett and Ray Cruz, it wouldn't have surprised him if they turned to each other for comfort. He didn't confront Tony or ask for confirmation. If there had been something going on, he didn't want to force Tony to lie to him about breaking Rule 12. Based on their stormy history and some lingering trust issues, Gibbs soon became fairly certain that nothing had developed romantically between them.

Lost in thought again as he pushed off of the counter on this way back to the basement, Gibbs failed to notice the decidedly eerie green hue the sky had taken on, or the angry looking clouds building to the southwest. He paused only for a second or two when the lights flickered before again descending the stairs leading down to his sanctuary.

A drop of sweat splashed onto the board Gibbs had been concentrating on sanding. He turned and placed the sanding block on the workbench then pulled a bandana from his pocket and wiped away the sweat threatening to trickle into his eyes. A sharp rapid 'ping ping' sound got his attention. Looking out the small basement windows he could see pea-sized hailstones bounce on the grass and leaves from the neighbor's maple tree blowing across the lawn.

Turning to the TV he saw a banner on the screen about a weather alert, but before the nearly panicked bleach blonde anchor began to speak the screen turned to snow and the sound to static. The usual couple of whacks on the top and side did nothing.

"Shit," Gibbs muttered when he felt a sudden change in air pressure, and heard much larger wind-driven hail stones bounce off the window panes and siding.

Moving to stand on the second from the bottom step he got his first good look out the small window at the tempest raging outside. The sky was a swirling mass of ominous gray-green that he hadn't seen in years. Tree limbs were stressed to the breaking point by straight line winds. The house creaked and groaned.

Suddenly fearing the worst, Gibbs grabbed the long slender Maglite flashlight from its charger mounted on the wall next to the workbench. No sooner had he switched it on, the lights dimmed, flickered a few times, then went out. The fierce wind and hail stopped and everything went oddly still. In the midst of the relative calm, the siren at the elementary school two blocks began to wail.

Hearing a distinct roar building in the distance off to the west, Gibbs pulled out his phone as he took shelter under the massive heavy structure of the boat. He flipped it open and pressed speed-dial 1 to call Tony's cell number. As he waited for the call to connect, he reached out and grabbed two old blankets that were piled in the nearby corner. After three rings the call went to voicemail, and the last words he heard before a loud sustained crash were a cheerfully chirped, "Hi! You've reached Very Special Agent Anthony Di...".


	3. Chapter 3

****

_Gibbs…_

Tony tried hard to listen for any break in the static over the animated chatter of the building’s basement-displaced tenants as he slowly turned the tuner on his portable radio. So far all he had been able to hear down in the bowels of the basement was the same monotone automatic warning that had been on a constant loop upstairs which told them the various dangers that might well be ravaging the world above-ground but nothing more.

All told, he estimated that there were close to 50 people huddled in the dark corridor between assigned storage spaces and waiting out the storm. Occasionally, the beam of a flashlight blinded him momentarily or an unknown someone brushed against him, causing him to pause in his search. Acutely aware that all eyes were on him now, he tried to tune out the nervous mutterings around him.

Once his final little group had arrived in the basement to join those already gathered, and after he’d managed to pry her strangling arms from around his neck, Tony had used his first aid kit to patch up the young woman from the street. She spoke fractured English but was able to communicate that her name was Chen and she lived with her family in an apartment a few blocks away. The wound to her temple was quite a gash and she was likely going to need stitches when everything was over but at least she was conscious. When she had calmed enough he’d deposited her into the hands of the only other person in the room that looked to be of Asian descent-an older man who said he lived on the 3rd floor and still seemed a bit dazed- with a few instructions and hoped for the best.

People kept asking him things like, ‘When will it be safe?’ and, ‘When will the power come back on?’ and, ‘Do you think they’ll reschedule tonight’s ‘American Idol’ because of the storm?’ As if he suddenly had the answers to everything simply because he knew how to keep a cool head in a crisis.

He was probably going to have to move after this.

“Are you a cop?” A not-wholly unpleasant voice came at Tony out of the darkness and a bright beam shone in his eyes until he put his hand up with an annoyed look on his face.

“Kind of.” He wasn’t in the mood for long explanations right now and he had almost run out of room on the radio’s dial.

“How do you get to be ‘kind of’ a cop?” annoyingly-curious guy persisted.

“Used to be a cop. A detective, actually.” Tony couldn’t say why he felt the need to add that last part. “Now I’m a Federal Investigator with NCIS.” Perhaps that would shut him up.

“NCI what?”

Apparently not, although somehow his congenial inquisitor made the question sound a bit less offensive than it usually did. “I investigate crimes that involve US Navy or Marine personnel and terrorist activities that target our armed forces at home and abroad,” he recited with just a touch of irritation, giving up and turning the radio back to the drone of the weather warning.

“Sounds like quite a job.” The words came with a note of slightly awed respect as well as intrigued curiosity.

“It has its moments.” Tony gave a frustrated sigh and finally stood to look eye to eye at his interrogator in the dim light. The man, perhaps a few years older than him, looked like he might very well be the type of guy who spent considerable time in a laboratory or behind a computer terminal somewhere. He wasn’t bad looking, was maybe even quietly sexy in an utterly geeky way, but with shrewd eyes that weighed and assessed everything around him. Tony was struck by the laughable thought that this guy might be the unholy result of a McGee/ Gibbs love child. “I’m Tony,” he offered reluctantly, unable to think of another way to move on.

“Brian,” the other man acknowledged with a nod of his head. “I’m in 522. Don’t think I’ve seen you around the building before.” He flashed a brilliant smile.

The statement had the feel of the most awkward bar pick up line Tony’d ever heard. Holy fuck, the guy was actually hitting on him. “I’m not home much,” Tony answered absently, only giving half of his attention to the interaction at hand. His head was most definitely somewhere else.

“Me either,” Brian continued, obviously undeterred by Tony’s scattered interest. “Mostly nights. But it’s just me so, you know, no one to answer to if things run late at the office.” He hadn’t even tried to hide the implication in that little piece of information.

Tony had to hand it to the guy, he wasn’t shy. He realized that not too long ago, under different circumstances, he might have tried to take advantage of the situation himself, but right now his brain and his gut were tied up with only one thought. “Excuse me for a second?” It wasn’t exactly a shut-down, but it was clear his would-be suitor didn’t quite know how to take his response so he proceeded without waiting for one in return.

He moved to the end of the dark hallway where a small window allowed a rather obscured view up through a set of bars. There wasn’t much to see. A steady stream of water was flowing down the sides of the hollowed out space around the window and the small patch of sky above was still ominously dark, but at least it looked as if the hail had stopped. A flash of lightning made him draw back suddenly and rub his eyes against the unexpected brightness of it. Taking a few steps away from the wall, Tony flipped open his cell. He’d tried to call Gibbs the first second he’d gotten a free moment down here but the signal was patchy and he wasn’t able to find a place strong enough for a call to go out. Next to the window, he had one bar so he decided to chance it and hurriedly pressed Jethro’s speed dial code. Almost immediately a rapid busy signal sounded in his ear and he flipped the phone shut with a sigh. If the storm was that bad, it was likely that it could have taken a few cell towers off line and that the others were overloaded. Tony’d seen a number of his fellow refugees walking around in circles with their phones raised over their heads trying to get through with no success. Flipping his phone open again, he checked his battery. He was still at 85% and was thankful that he’d charged it before leaving work. Probably best to save it until he was more certain of a good connection.

When he returned to the radio, he found that many of his fellow tenants had huddled around it and seemed to be listening intently. It took him a few seconds to realize that the repeated message had stopped and a live reporter was speaking. Joining the throng, he strained to hear the staticy update, trying desperately to ignore the churning in his gut that was bothering him much more than it should be even over a storm this severe. The next 15 minutes or so held tentative reports of at least three tornadoes moving through the DC area leaving parts of the city heavily damaged. All around him people gasped and muttered to each other, but his ears stayed trained on the voice of the reporter. According to early information, which he knew could be either a drastic over or underestimation, several area roads were considered impassible due to flooding, hail had caused damage to windows, cars, roofs, and trees, and devastating structural damage to entire neighborhoods was being phoned in by observers. The list of reports was long but at the news of extensive destruction across a wide area north of the beltway in Alexandria, his heart jumped into his throat as his worst fears were suddenly realized. “I need to go,” Tony whispered to no one in particular, staring into the dim light toward the source of sound.

He couldn’t shake it, the sudden feeling, the need to flee, to get to wherever Jethro was. Flipping open his cell he moved back to the window and tried Gibbs’ number again, getting the same frustrating signal. Tony realized his hand was shaking now as adrenaline flooded his system. Tornadoes he could handle, but not the thought of something happening to Jethro. _Goddamn it, Gibbs, do not be at home tonight._ The words kept whispering like a silent prayer inside his head.

But Tony somehow knew he would be.

At the very least he could content himself with the thought that the older man was likely already in his basement when the storm hit, but for some reason even that likelihood wasn’t slowing his heart rate or the pounding of blood in his ears. Tony pressed the next number on his speed dial, really just randomly seeing if he could get a connection, and was surprised when it began to ring.

 _“McGee.”_ Tim’s voice was clear in his ear, though the younger man sounded tense.

 “McGee!” Tony nearly shouted into the receiver, “Where the hell are you?”

_“Still at NCIS. I was helping Abby with something and then the storm started and…”_

Tony cut him off. “Please tell me Gibbs is still there somewhere.” He didn’t like the sound of desperation in his own voice but there was nothing to be done about it now.

_“He left just after you did. Didn’t look particularly happy either. What, you mean you haven’t heard from him yet?”_

“No, Tim. I haven’t heard from him yet,” he snapped before he could catch himself. “He hasn’t called you or Abby?”

 _“No. Nothing. Ziva called in just before you did and she didn’t mention hearing from him either. You don’t think something’s wrong, do you?”_ Tim sounded alarmed now as well.

He could hear the younger agent trying to keep Abby at bay in the background. “Don’t know, Probie, but it sounds like his area was hit pretty hard. I just…I don’t like the feel of this. I’m heading over there,” Tony said resolutely.

_“Tony, that’s miles away from you. Haven’t you heard about the roads out there? No one’s getting anywhere right now. They want everyone off the streets so emergency vehicles can get through but I guess a lot of people are stranded in their cars because of flooded roads, downed trees and power lines, and traffic lights that are out. They’re having a hard time getting rescue crews in to the worst hit areas and…”_

“Unless I hear from him or get through to him in the next five minutes, I’m going to find him. You know he’d do the same for one of us if his gut told him to and mine’s halfway out the door already.” Tony glanced past the crowd behind him toward the elevator and stairwell.

“ _Just be careful. And don’t do anything stupid. It’s gonna be dark soon.”_ Tim warned.

“Keep your phone on, McGee. And if you hear anything at all from Gibbs, call me.” He flipped the phone shut and pushed his way through the group of tenants to begin gathering up his things from where he’d left them with his radio.

_Gibbs…_

“You’re leaving?” His new curious friend suddenly appeared at his shoulder.

“Got a friend in Alexandria. Can’t get him on the phone.” He shoved his first aid kit into his backpack. “Besides, the worst of the storm is over now. It’s safe to go back upstairs.” As soon as he said the words he felt a wave of relief flutter around the room as those around him took his words for gospel.

“I can’t believe you’re thinking about going out in this. Didn’t you hear what they said about the roads?” His new friend actually sounded just as concerned as McGee had which he thought unusual for a relative stranger.

“Don’t have a choice. I’ll drive as far as I can and then jog the rest of the way if I have to.” Tony really hadn’t thought too far past getting on the road to Gibbs’ place. He’d never clocked it but he didn’t think it could be more than 7 or 8 miles from Georgetown if he took the most direct route. He could run that if need be. Hell, for Gibbs he could run 20.

“That must be some friend,” Brian said speculatively.

“Not just a friend, he’s my boss. And he wouldn’t think twice about going out in this if he was worried about me. Hell, he’d have left a half hour ago.” As the words came out Tony felt the truth of them and something more besides.

Brian remained silent for a moment, watched Tony cram the last of his things into his pack. He seemed to be mulling something over. “I’ve got a scooter,” Brian said, finally, “if you want to borrow it, that is. It’s nothing fancy but I use it to commute back and forth in the summers. Should help you get around traffic anyway. Might get you further than your car,” Brian offered.

Tony turned to look at the other man in the dim light, a ray of hope breaking through the darkness gathering around his heart for just one moment. “I owe you, big time,” Tony said sincerely, reaching for his hand.

“Have dinner with me some night and thank me,” Brian flashed a grin and Tony realized he wasn’t just geeky handsome, he was handsome in that incredibly unnerving Clark Kent kind of way, the kind of way where devastatingly sexy lived right beneath the surface of unassuming and slightly awkward, dwelling unnoticed until it suddenly removed it’s nerdy glasses and started sucking your cock.  “Unless this boss-friend of yours has an objection to you having dinner with someone?” He raised an eyebrow.

“I doubt he will.” Tony shook his head. It was hard to keep the disappointment out of his voice even now.  “But either way, sounds like a fair trade. I promise to bring it back.” They started up the stairs together.  Tony was a little unnerved to realize that under different circumstances he might actually be damn flattered by Brian’s obvious intentions.

“Hey, it’s not like I don’t know where you live,” Brian said as they made it to the lobby. “Just let me go upstairs and grab the keys.”

The few minutes it took for Brian to run up five floors and back down again felt like hours to Tony. He surveyed the damage outside which didn’t seem too horrific at first glance. A large puddle of water had been blown into the foyer area of the lobby where it was now unprotected by its broken door but it was nothing a mop and a broom wouldn’t put right pretty quickly. In the street, things were a little worse but still manageable, at least here. The temperature had dropped noticeably and the heavy, moist air he’d noticed earlier had dissipated. The sky was still grey and a light misty rain was falling, but the clouds looked much less ominous, and he suspected part of the darkness was now due to the hour. Thunder still rumbled in the distance and the wail of sirens-ambulances and police cars this time- seemed to assault him from every side.  There were tree limbs down in several areas of the few blocks he could see, some in the streets and some covering the sidewalk. Torn awnings flapped in the breeze in front of more than a few buildings, and the litter of shredded leaves was everywhere as a result of the hail. Car alarms wailed at him from seemingly every direction but only a few cars crept cautiously down the road, their drivers dodging debris and generally gawking at the damage.

Now that Tony was outside, he tried Gibbs’ phone one last time and almost jumped out of his skin when it started to ring, but by the fourth ring he began to lose heart with every tone. Finally, he was flipped over to voicemail-a voicemail the older man had never bothered setting up-and Tony closed his cell yet again, somehow feeling an even greater sense of urgency to get on his way as soon as possible. It was one thing if his phone wouldn’t let a call go through, to think that maybe Gibbs was trying just as desperately to reach him, but now that he’d made a connection and Gibbs wouldn’t-his brain refused to do more that flutter fleetingly up against the word _couldn’t-_ answer, Tony was ready to start running. A gentle hand on his shoulder made him jump and brought him out of his head with a start.

“Hey,” Brian said as Tony turned around quickly and pulled out of his grasp. He dangled the keys in front of the somewhat wild-eyed other man who snatched them hurriedly.

“Thanks again. I’ll try to bring it back in one piece.” DiNozzo didn’t want to seem ungrateful for a favor he had not yet earned the right to so he forced his feet to stay on the pavement for just a minute longer.

“You’d better or you’re going to owe me a hell of a lot more than a dinner date,” Brian laughed before turning more serious again. “It’s in spot number 37 in the garage. Helmet’s on the back. I know we don’t really know each other but I don’t suppose I can talk you out of going out in this, huh? I’ve got a pretty expensive bottle of wine upstairs that I’ve been dying for an excuse to open,” he said hopefully.

Tony shook his head firmly. “Not a chance in hell.”

“Well then, I sure hope this boss of yours knows what a good guy he’s got, but here’s my card anyway.” He handed Tony the expensive-feeling bit of card stock.

“If he does, I haven’t heard much about it. Then again, he’s not exactly the talkative type.”  The proffered card made him stop mid-turn and he took it quickly, glancing at the neatly printed name and credentials as well as the hand-written number across the top.  

 “That’s too bad.” For some reason Brian didn’t sound completely disappointed. “Guy like you…well, let’s just say it’s too bad your boss can’t really see what he’s missing.”

“You’re a doctor?” Tony looked up at the other man as the title below his name caught his eye. “Shouldn’t you be, I don’t know, doctoring or something? Must be a lot of hurt people out there.”

“Not a lot of call for Pathology in an emergency like this. I spend most of my day looking at slides rather than people.” He shrugged dismissively.

Tony had absolutely no response to that statement but it didn’t matter because his feet were itching to move. “Listen, I don’t mean to seem ungrateful or anything else you might think of me right now but…”

“You need to go,” the other man finished with a knowing nod. “Go. And…be careful. You’re the only neighbor I ever had even half an interest in getting to know and I wouldn’t want to miss out on that dinner.”

Once again unable to think of a fitting answer, Tony swung his go-bag onto his back and trotted off for the side of the building and the entrance to its underground garage without another word. He found the bike without incident and was soon on his way.

 Tony hadn’t really counted on spending the first few blocks with the scooter simply struggling to get the feel of being on two wheels again. It wasn’t _exactly_ like remembering how to ride a bike but after a few turns and a panicky moment of praying to every God he knew that one of the silver things beneath his fingertips was indeed a _brake_ , he felt like he had a decent handle on it and chanced a little more speed.

The twilight closing in around him seemed unnatural, like he was seeing an entirely different spectrum of light than he was used to. Maybe it was the last rays of dark golden sunlight emerging below purple clouds, or maybe it was just the blood pounding behind his eyes but he didn’t think he was imagining it. He needed to get out of his head, needed to concentrate and focus on the road in front of him, the road that seemed riddled with a million impossibilities, rising up like quicksand to grab at his tires and hold him back from reaching Jethro.

One mile, two miles…

_Gibbs, Gibbs…_

The thump of pavement beneath the wheels seemed to echo the adrenaline-fueled throbbing of his pulse or maybe it was the other way around. Either way, the odometer kept turning and every new little number meant he was that much closer- _closer to what?_ His mind refused to go there.

The first couple miles of Tony’s journey were relatively easy. He dodged traffic up the center line or on sidewalks, prepared to flash his creds and claim an emergency if by chance one of the District’s finest happened to take an interest in him, but he was betting on the fact that every able body had far more pressing matters to attend to tonight than one guy on a scooter violating a few dozen traffic laws. Occasionally he had to slow for tree limbs or broken glass in his path but was truly surprised that he met no real impediments to his steady progress across town. His ride across the Key Bridge was a little slower than he would have liked, the traffic there bumper to bumper and dead stopped with many drivers out of their cars and trying to get a glimpse up the road. Once across, he tried to stick to side streets or even alleys and avoid large intersections. He made sure to stay to high ground, bypassing roads he knew might be quicker but prone to flooding.

Three miles, four miles, five…

_Gibbs, Gibbs, Gibbs…_

 He used the access road around Arlington Cemetery, headed south on the 395 service drive past the Army-Navy club to give Reagan airport a wide berth. The endless line of cars below him didn’t seem to be getting anywhere in a hurry and he was feeling pretty good about his choices so far as he made decent time considering the snail-paced world around him.

As Tony rode, he took stock of the neighborhoods, businesses, and parks that he passed in the fast-dwindling light. The damage was wide spread, certainly, but so far he had seen nothing he would term ‘catastrophic’. In some parks and open spaces where the wind had been allowed free reign  he saw the outlines of overturned trees, their immense root clusters looking odd and alien in the dim light. Every so often he came on downed power lines sparking menacingly off to one side or the other and even a few poles that looked as if a giant had snapped them off midway up like a toothpick. At one intersection a string of traffic lights had come down and scattered red, green, and yellow shards among the cars stranded there. He skirted this carefully, silently blessed his new friend as the scooter wove easily around the mess where one full sized car at a time barely fit. But overall, the areas around him seemed curiously devoid of people so in general he paid them little mind. He became ever more hopeful as the pavement passed beneath him and the odometer spun slowly.

Six miles…seven…

_Gibbs….oh God, Gibbs…_

Tony was forced to slow up a few blocks from where he usually turned to head east through the surrounding neighborhoods to get to Gibbs’ place when he came by this route. Here, the damage was unquestionably greater. Piles of debris littering the road were marked off with glowing flares and he saw the unmistakable pulsing lights of emergency vehicles ahead. On every corner, people milled around in scattered and disjointed groups. Some clutched at each other like small, frightened children while others turned flat and lost eyes on him as he passed. He knew the signs of shock when he saw them, recognized the empty gazes and aimless movements, and it made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end at the same time it forced his heart into this throat.

He moved at a snail’s pace around the detritus of the storm’s wake and tried to stick to the parts of the road that were clearest. At the next intersection, a convenience store stood heavily damaged, its roof sloping off at an odd angle and its ice bin tossed halfway into the street, spilling the partly-melted bags of its innards into the gutter. Shattered glass glittered at him everywhere in the path of the bike’s head lamp and Tony was finally forced to take to his feet and push, knowing that without these two wheels he never could have come so far so fast. In a car he’d surely have been gridlocked a mile from his apartment. On his feet he’d still be running. No matter what happened now, at least he could be grateful for that.

The road ahead was completely cordoned off by emergency vehicles about a block from the street that would take him to Jethro’s. With a deep sigh of regret, he found a minimally cluttered space between two vehicles that had sustained heavy hail damage and abandoned the scooter, knowing he would get no further on it tonight. With any luck it would be there when this mess was over with but if it wasn’t, well, his pocket book would be a bit lighter, and it was a price he was willing to pay.

Amidst the flashing lights, Tony could pick out at least three fire trucks, a few vans marked with search and rescue insignia, half a dozen ambulances, and a few black and whites from the Metro PD. In the distance he could hear chainsaws, and nearer, the squall of an infant above the buzz of hushed voices and the chatter of radios as teams communicated back and forth.

No one stopped him at the first barrier. Tony knew how to put on an air of authority when necessary and right now he was on a mission he wasn’t about to be deterred from. He looked confident, he looked like he belonged, he looked like a man you didn’t want to fuck with.

The fact that he was wearing his NCIS slicker probably didn’t hurt.

Past the rescue engine blocking the road, Tony found paramedic crews triaging the injured. Mostly he saw glazed-eyed victims with cuts and gashes, a few who looked like they had potentially broken limbs or dislocated joints, but there didn’t seem to be any body bags. He wanted desperately to believe that was a good sign.

Tony’d made it as far as the entrance to Jethro’s street, barely recognizable among the debris of overturned trees and scattered rubble, before someone finally decided to question his presence at the scene.

“Unless you’re injured or need help, all non-official personnel need to stay behind the barriers, sir.” A distinctly unsympathetic voice called out to him from a few feet away.

Schooling his features and recognizing the tone of a small man who has been given a big job, Tony turned and glared menacingly. “Who’s in charge here?” he demanded flatly, sizing up the man approaching him in a Metro PD uniform.

“That would be me for the moment. Are you a resident? If you’re looking for someone we’ve got a guy taking names back there.” He gestured back in the direction Tony had come from. “Otherwise, you’ll need to wait behind the barrier.”

“I’m a Federal Agent. Got one of our best men a few blocks in on Laurel and no one can get him on the phone. Director sent me to bring him in.” He flashed his badge as he gave his story, not even caring that it was only half-true. There was no doubt in his mind that if Vance knew about Gibbs’ MIA status he would have ordered someone into the fray.

The officer squared his shoulders. “I’m under strict orders not to let anyone into this zone unless they are official rescue personnel. You can wait for your friend but right now we’re going house to house and it’s a damn mess. Might be awhile before we get that far in so I’m going to have to insist you wait behind the barrier where you’re out from under foot.”

Tony felt the corner of his mouth twitch in amusement. This was a simple game of who had the bigger cock and there was no doubt in his mind that he would come out on top without too much effort. Rather than backing down as the officer clearly hoped he would, he took a step forward, leaning in ominously. “And _I’m_ under orders from the director of a Federal Agency who, I’m pretty sure, trumps whatever desk jockey is giving you your directives regarding this scene.” He took another step, noticing that his challenger was leaning back on his heels ever so slightly now. “So if you want to stop me from doing what I was sent here to do you’ve got two choices, handcuff me, or shoot me.” Tony ticked these off on his fingers without looking down as he moved closer. “And then someone with a hell of a lot more seniority than you is going to have a really bad day explaining to the Director of NCIS _and_ the Secretary of the Navy why the Metro PD interfered with the operations of their Agency.”

His last step finally forced his adversary backwards, though the harried officer moved quickly to cover his unconscious retreat. “I won’t be responsible for…”

“I’m sure you won’t,” Tony sneered, relaxing his posture a little. “Now, unless you’ve got something helpful for me, I assume you’re done wasting my time.” He didn’t wait for an answer as he turned to go, picking a route to the right side of what remained of the street and leaving the sputtering and fuming officer in his wake.

* * *

 

Tony hadn’t gone 200 feet down Jethro’s street before he was stopped in his tracks by the overwhelming enormity of what he was walking into. He let out a breathy and involuntary curse as the thick, penetrating beam of his flashlight lit on the devastation around him.

Bombs. He’d seen bombs cause less damage than this. The thing about a bomb is that there is an order to its destruction, a central detonation point, a blast radius, simple as that. Sure there are variations depending on the size and type of the device, what you put in its way, but in the end there is a general predictability about what it will leave behind. This…this was chaos defined and the disorientation Tony felt was very nearly instantaneous and absolute.

He had to believe he was still on the outside edge of the tornado’s damage path and yet everywhere he looked there was evidence of its passing. A few homes to his right looked nearly untouched-though he guessed in the daylight the story might be a bit different-while others had sustained tremendous damage. He could see large red X’s on the doors of each home indicating that they had been checked and cleared. In his path and in the street, huge old elms and maples had been overturned and thrown about like match sticks. Other trees were broken off abruptly a few feet up their massive trunks or split down the center like they had been hacked by the largest axe ever created. Glass and other things he didn’t want to think about crunched beneath his boots at every step. And those were the _normal_ things.

High up in the branches of an oddly denuded tree his flashlight shone on the white enameled cube of what could only be a washing machine no matter how insane the notion of its presence might be. On the otherwise clean-swept front lawn of a two story home the mangled remains of a child’s swing set looked alien and somehow haunting. Everywhere he looked, pieces of paper, books, magazines, clothing, toys, the tattered and torn remnants of dozens, perhaps hundreds of lives, created an otherworldly landscape.

Tony needed to focus. Focus meant breathing which he suddenly realized he wasn’t doing much of. Now he filled his lungs until they burned and exhaled the thought that was slowly eating him alive from the inside.

_Gibbs…_

That single thought swept through him, uprooted his feet from the ground and brought him back down to earth all at the same time. He became aware again of the busy sound of chainsaws not far ahead, of voices shouting instructions. Somehow the sounds were comforting. Even though he knew he was a block or two from dozens of people they suddenly seemed a million miles away and the only things that existed were those standing between him and Gibbs. There was this part of him, the part he was hanging onto with every step, that hoped, that _believed_ ,  he would find Jethro somewhere along the way, pitching in, saving lives, being the man that he had to be. Tony smiled at the thought as he carefully skirted a pile of bricks that had formerly belonged to a modest turn of the century home.

Tony tackled one obstacle at a time until the voices got closer, until the purr of a generator reached his ears and the glow of a halogen lamp penetrated the darkness of the street. He found a man in search and rescue gear refueling a chainsaw in the pool of light and approached. “Hey,” he called out as he shielded his eyes.

The man squatting down in front of him looked confused until Tony emerged fully from the shadows. “You need help? Thought we cleared all the houses back there already?”

“Looking for someone.” He flashed his creds to give himself a bit more of a leg to stand on.

“Not exactly the place for a manhunt tonight.” The man screwed the gas cap back on tightly and wiped his hands on his pants.

Tony shook his head. “Looking for my boss. He lives a couple blocks further in and no one can get him on the phone. If he’s okay,” he swallowed the word- _oh fuck, let him be okay-“_ If he’s okay he’d most likely be here lending a hand somewhere. ‘Bout 6 foot? Silver hair? Walks and talks like a Marine?” Tony asked hopefully.

“Man of few words, huh? I don’t have anyone in this group but we’re all fanned out. Let me check with the other teams. What’s your guy’s name?” He pulled a radio out of his belt.

“Gibbs.” Tony realized he had responded a little too hopefully. This little bit of human interaction in an otherwise alien world was more comforting than he would have imagined, and he suddenly didn’t feel so alone in his fight.

“Anyone out there got a local by the name of Gibbs working with them? He’s a Fed.” He released the microphone button and waited.

Seconds passed but to Tony it felt like minutes before anyone responded. When they did it was all in the negative and his heart fell a bit more with every crackling answer.

“Sorry, doesn’t sound like he’s here. Where did you say he was at again?”

“About two blocks further east. I think.“ Tony took a moment to examine their surroundings for anything familiar and realized they were in the middle of an intersection. Only a few feet of curb was visible as an identifier.

The rescue worker nodded. “Haven’t been in that far yet but it’s pretty close to the direct path. Lot of damage, got people trapped beneath debris or worse.” He looked like he suddenly realized this wasn’t the news Tony was looking to hear and moved on. “There are more teams working in from the other side and on other streets but we just don’t have enough bodies to move faster. Could use a couple more men who knew what the hell they were doing.”

“Understood. If I can come back, I will,” Tony promised sincerely.

“You got a radio? Think I have an extra.” He walked over to a small pile of equipment, retrieved an identical looking walkie to the one held in his other hand, and handed it to Tony. “We’re on channel 7. Don’t know how much juice this one’s got left but it’s better than nothing.”

“Appreciate it.” Tony tucked the hand-held device into his pocket and hesitated on the point of turning away, finally working up the courage to ask the question that had been burning on his tongue. “How bad?” he asked somberly.

The rescue worker contemplated Tony for a moment before answering. “Bad,” he said simply, an unmistakable note of sympathy lingering on the single syllable.

Digging in despite his churning gut, DiNozzo fought down the bitter mix of bile and adrenaline that rose in his throat, found his reserves, and hiked his bag a little higher on his shoulders. “Thanks.” They both knew for what.

“Hope you find him.”

“I will.”

One way or another, he would.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I once (unexpectedly) drove through the aftermath of a tornado in the Detroit area. Tony's journey through the neighborhood if a reflection of many of the things I saw that night and which I still see so clearly even 18 years later. 
> 
> Also, if you live in DC, please cut me some slack on the driving route. I did the best I could with my limited knowledge of the area and mapquest. 
> 
> Thank you for reading.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A huge thank you to everyone following and giving us feedback on this story! Fear not, Tony is on the way but what will he find when he gets to Gibbs' house? While Gibbs works to free himself, memories of the past and dreams of the future play through his mind.

Dizzy and disoriented, Gibbs groaned as he slowly started to regain consciousness. He drifted in and out for an undetermined amount of time before his senses began to kick in leaving him stranded somewhere between awake and an almost surreal dream state.

His eyes fluttered open and he blinked repeatedly to clear away a layer of dust. He could smell the coppery tang of blood trickling down his face. It took some effort, but he managed to free his right arm from beneath a pile of debris and was able to wipe away the blood that had coagulated around his right eye. A second stream of blood trickled down his face and tickled his ear before dripping to the floor. Gibbs knew from experience that even small head wounds had a tendency to bleed profusely.

As the fog slowly lifted, he became keenly aware of the crushing weight on his chest and legs. Lying on his back in the dark on cold wet concrete, his Marine training took over and he began to assess the situation. Gibbs sent a silent command to his toes to wiggle and they dutifully obeyed, though not without some major discomfort. "Okay, not paralyzed," he thought as he felt nearly the full weight of the boat covering him from the left side of his chest down to his feet.

A first attempt at taking a deep breath was met with heavy resistance and sharp pain radiating from what he suspected were at least a few cracked, if not broken, ribs. Mindful of this, he kept his breathing as shallow as possible. Each small breath hurt like hell, but at least he was alive.

With his left arm pinned beneath rubble he couldn't look at his watch, and had no idea if he had been lying there for minutes, hours, or days. He made one attempt to free himself, but his ribs protested and the exertion only served to exacerbate the pounding in his head. Gibbs closed his eyes and lay still as a wave of nausea crashed over him, a sure sign of a concussion.

It was eerily quiet save for occasional creaking and groaning coming from above and the muted sound of distant sirens. Helpless as he lay entombed beneath a pile of debris, and unaware of the total devastation above and around him, Gibbs cursed at himself for not paying closer attention or heeding the warnings on the radio and TV.

Growing up in east-central Pennsylvania, Gibbs was hardly a stranger to tornadoes. He could vividly recall Jack barking for him and his mom to get in the storm cellar on several occasions. The tiny town of Stillwater, population 209, had never taken a direct hit that he could remember but surrounding towns hadn't always been as lucky.

The last thing Gibbs remembered before the storm struck was the lights going out followed closely by a loud sustained crash and the shattering of glass as he dove for cover under the boat. He dropped his hand to the side, which fortuitously landed on the Maglite he had grabbed mere moments before all hell broke loose. True to its advertising as being indestructible, with the push of a button an intense beam of brilliant light pierced the darkness.

From his vantage point Gibbs couldn't see much, but when the beam fell on the old console TV that normally sat in the corner of his living room lying broken on its side nearby it was evident that he was pinned beneath more than just the boat. He was able to crane his neck enough to see the edge of a large jagged hole above him with fractured floor joists hanging precariously and no longer fully supporting the floors above him. The stairs where all but gone.

A profound ache constricted his heart and he swallowed hard against the lump forming in his throat. Lost in renewed sorrow, Gibbs closed his watery eyes and let his mind drift back in time.

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Shannon had been instantly charmed by the two-story house and saw great potential for making it a home. The neighborhood was typical suburbia with an elementary school and large park just two blocks away. If the number of kids playing tag and riding bikes was any indication, Kelly would certainly have her share of friends. Built in the late sixties, the house wasn't as fancy as some of the newer homes being built in the area, but it suited their needs perfectly.

Kelly, with all the glee a typical five-year old possessed, was instantly enamored by the raised wooden sandbox in the back yard. Doris Markey, the friendly middle-aged realtor, chuckled and promised to keep an eye on Kelly while Gibbs and Shannon explored the house. Once Gibbs had given the house a thorough inspection, finding it well built and structurally sound, he gave in to his girls' wishes and made an offer. Shedding sand as she went, Kelly squealed with delight then ran up the stairs and laid claim to the bedroom of her choice.

The house failed to be a home without Shannon and Kelly, and for a brief time Gibbs considered selling it. Several young couples looked at it during the short time it was on the market, but Gibbs couldn't bring himself to accept even the most generous offer. One young family in particular, so reminiscent of the one he lost, brought back too many precious memories. Those memories were too closely tied to the house, and he wasn't sure he could ever let them go.

Many times during the first few months after their funeral Gibbs contemplated suicide so that he could join them on the other side. Overwhelmed by the pain of grief, one by one he distanced himself from everyone. He drank to excess and went out looking for fights. Any physical pain he had to suffer was a temporary distraction from the devastating pain of his broken heart.

It was dumb luck that on one fortuitous night, a severely drunken Gibbs picked a fight with the wrong guy - Mike Franks. It would be the only fight he ever lost. Seeing that his opponent was highly intoxicated, Franks took pity on him after cutting him above the eye with one well-aimed punch and dragged him out of the bar. After promising the bartender that they would be back in the morning to pick up his truck, Mike loaded a staggering Gibbs into the front seat of his car and drove him home.

There was something about the cantankerous arrogant bastard that told Gibbs he could trust him. As Franks cleaned and bandaged the cut above his eye, Gibbs sat at the kitchen table and poured out his heart. The gruff stranger proved to be sympathetic and imparted some words of wisdom.

"You gotta pull yourself together, Gunny. You can either wallow in self-pity, or you can do something about the son-of-a bitch that killed your family. Get your shit together and maybe we can track him down," Franks barked as he pulled a card from his wallet. "You call that number and come see me. I could use a tough hombre like you on my team. At least think about it, and for Christ's sake quit beating yourself up. I'll be waiting for your call."

It would only be a few weeks later before Gibbs started working for NIS and calling Mike "Boss" while proudly earning himself a new name - "Probie".

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Startled awake by another loud crash, Gibbs' eyes shot open. A bolt of sharp pain radiated from his chest to this toes as the crushing weight pinning him down shifted ever so slightly. He felt the ground shudder beneath him as a shower of plaster dust and splinted wood rained down on him.

Turning his head to the right to protect his face from the falling debris, Gibbs' eyes fell on his cell phone lying open on its side just out reach. Had he tried to call for help? He couldn't remember, not that it mattered now. It was going to be up to him to free himself with the hope that help was on its way.

Gibbs always figured he would die alone, but not like this; not entombed in the remnants of his sanctuary. He always saw himself getting blown up or shot in the line of duty, not buried beneath one of his creations and likely a good portion of his house. Feeling numbness in his legs, it was clear that time was running out to get circulation back. Squeezing his eyes tightly shut against anticipated agony and with the Maglite held firmly in his teeth, Gibbs used his dominant right arm to push up on the boat rib threatening to crush his chest. Growling like a weightlifter pushing his limits, he managed enough leverage to and was able to dislodge some of the debris creating extra weight. He was able to raise the frame enough to free his left arm. It was bloodied and bruised but his fingers wiggled and with some effort his wrist flexed on command. It hurt like hell and was likely sprained, but thankfully not broken.

Exertion and pain combined to cause his whole body to break out in a sweat. He rested for a few minutes before making a second attempt, and a third as he used the ribs of the boat like monkey bars. Fighting with sheer determination against pure blinding agony, Gibbs was able to raise the structure just enough so he could wriggle his upper body and drag himself free.

His relief from the crushing weight was short-lived, however, when blood rushed back into his once-pinned extremities. He bit down on the shaft of the Maglite clenched between his teeth, stifling a scream until the almost brutal pins and needles sensations began to lessen. Along with his pounding head, Gibbs no longer had any doubt that he would indeed be nursing several broken ribs. He kept his breathing as shallow as possible and prayed that the overexertion hadn't resulted in a punctured lung. Gingerly, he sat up holding his throbbing left arm against his body.

When he reached his phone, he slid it across the cold concrete toward the corner near the hot water heater. The joists and rafters bolted to the foundation walls appeared to be undamaged and would provide a bit of shelter from additional falling debris, or so he hoped. It took Herculean effort, but he managed to drag himself across the floor until he was propped up in the corner.

"Shit," he ground out at the sight of his somewhat distorted left leg. Gibbs suspected it was broken, but until he could put weight on it he wouldn't know for sure. In addition to throbbing, there was angry-looking bruising and pronounced swelling just above the top of his leather work boot. That was minor, however, compared to the long, deep, jagged gash running down the inside of his calf from his knee to his boot. Gibbs picked several large splinters of wood from the wound that had begun to bleed profusely now that full circulation had been restored.

Leaning to his right he was able to grab a few old t-shirts from the pile he kept on hand for staining. It took some effort, but he managed to tear one shirt into wide strips. Using scrap lumber as a makeshift splint would have been ideal to stabilize his leg, but binding the wound tightly with strips of cloth would have to suffice for now.

Gibbs was about to tear up a second shirt but stopped when he recognized it. He huffed out a laugh as yet another flash from the past crept into his mind like some macabre version of "This Is Your Life". It was a black Brooks & Dunn t-shirt he hadn't seen in nearly two decades that belonged to someone who had entered his life at his darkest time and turned his world upside down.

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Randy Sterling was the quintessential gym rat. The tall, tan, blue-eyed blonde model and part-time personal trainer was busy racking weights after spotting for a client when Gibbs came in carrying his gym bag over his shoulder. As a bartender at Gibbs' favorite haunt, Randy had been witness to and helped break up several of his fights.

After suffering through a mandatory, six-hour sensitivity seminar presented by the Human Resources Department, Gibbs desperately needed to release some pent-up energy. After signing in at the front desk, he made his way to the locker room to change. The two acquaintances exchanged polite nods.

After changing into his workout gear, Gibbs stretched and shadow boxes for a few minutes to warm-up. Satisfied that he was ready for battle, he pulled on and laced up a pair of well-worn boxing gloves and turned to face his nemesis. In the zone and laser-focused, he took out his lingering frustration, grief and anger on the heavy bag. Each deliberate punch and kick was in equal measure painful and cathartic. His muscles burned and sweat ran into his eyes as he battled his personal demons.

Twenty minutes later, utterly spent, Gibbs collapsed to the floor with a pained sob, gasping for breath amid a string of curses. Randy, who had seen this scene play out before, rushed to his side. Gibbs took the offered towel and wiped the sweat from his face. Then, before Gibbs could make sense of what was happening, he was pulled to his feet and steered toward the locker room.

"Well I guess this is better than beating the shit out my best tippers," Randy said with a chuckle. "Tell you what, you go shower and change, then we'll get a drink and talk. Maybe grab a bite to eat, because you look like you could use a friend."

An hour later, Gibbs sat on Randy's couch nursing a cold beer. Two hours later his condom-covered cock was sliding in and out of Randy's welcoming body. Strong legs draped over his shoulders, hard muscle rippling beneath his hands, and the warm heat squeezing his throbbing dick was a heady combination. Randy offered encouragement as Gibbs lost himself in the unfamiliar sensations until he achieved the long overdue release he so desperately needed.

Gibbs' first time with a man formed the basis for a relationship with no expectations and no strings attached. But it wasn't just sex. They were friends first and fuck buddies second, and neither man was looking for more than that. They were comfortable just hanging out together, whether at the gym, working on Randy's car, or doing yard work at Gibbs' house.

Randy gradually convinced Gibbs to start dating again, sometimes serving as his wingman at the bar or setting him up with a couple of women he was friends with, and he was always there for him when things didn't work out. Tragically, their unique friendship was cut short after six and half months when Randy was struck and killed by a drunk driver while out for a late night run. By that time, Gibbs had started seeing the woman who would eventually become the first of his three ex-wives.

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Gibbs smiled fondly at the memories before tossing Randy's shirt aside and trading it for an old faded NIS one. After field dressing his visible wounds, he picked up his phone and flipped it open. He slumped back against the wall with relief when the cracked screen lit up. The time read 9:06. His first attempt to call Tony dropped immediately. Cursing under his breath he tried again, only to be immediately greeted with, "Hi! You've reached the one and only Anthony Di…," before the call dropped again. Calls to Ducky and Abby ended with the same result.

He knew that cell service would be iffy at best. Any cell towers still standing would be overtaxed with people across the vast city attempting to reach their loved ones. True enough, his third attempt to call Tony was met with a bright white message on the screen: "No service."

"Dammit," he hissed before snapping his phone shut and dropping it by his side. For a moment he wondered if Tony, or anyone for that matter, was trying to reach him. Panic set in as his thoughts turned first to Tony, then to Abby, McGee, Ducky, Ziva, and even Jimmy Palmer.

Not knowing the extent of damage his house, his neighborhood, or the city had sustained, Gibbs sent up a silent prayer to a God he wasn't sure he'd ever truly believed in that his team – his family – was safe.

Tamping down another wave of concussion-induced nausea, he turned off the flashlight and closed his eyes. His earlier dreams filled with loss were forgotten as he succumbed to sleep. He dreamed again, but this time instead of his sorrowful past creeping back in and haunting him, he saw visions of hope.

The cool salty spray was welcome and brought some relief to his slightly sunburned skin. Steady twelve knot winds filled out the main sheet and jib keeping the 27-foot sloop breaking through the unusually calm waters of the Chesapeake Bay. The steady wind, fair weather, and minimal two-foot waves combined for absolutely ideal sailing.

The boat was on loan from Gibbs' friend Max, a retired Marine he served with in Desert Storm. Gibbs had carried Max out of a fire fight after his squad was flanked and ambushed. He managed half a dozen kills while laying down cover fire causing the remaining Iraqi fighters to flee into the hills. Their friendship was forged in blood, and Max swore he would forever be in Gibbs' debt.

Tony had pestered Gibbs to finish the fourth generation "Kelly", which was nearing completion, but to Tony's disappointment she wouldn't be sea-worthy until the following spring. Gibbs had promised to take him sailing, and at Tony's dramatic pout he called in a favor.

The sun, high in the cloudless blue sky, glinted off of the water and the deliciously exposed skin of his sailing companion. Gibbs stood at the helm, keeping one eye on the open water and his other eye on the cocoa and shea butter coated Tony clad in the tiniest Speedo he'd ever seen and a pair of designer aviator shades. The long, slender, yet perfectly toned and muscled body of a nearly naked Tony DiNozzo lying on a deep blue beach towel up on the bow was a pleasant and welcome distraction from the endless miles of dark water surrounding them.

"Hey DiNozzo, c'mere and take the wheel for a minute," Gibbs requested with a tone that sounded more like an order.

Tony sat up and gaped at him. "Me? Are you crazy? I am not, repeat not, going to be responsible for crashing your friend's boat," he protested.

Gibbs chuckled. "You won't. I just need you to hold her steady while I take down the sail and drop anchor for a while."

"Oh. Okay then. Aye aye, Captain," Tony replied with a pearly-white toothy grin and a sloppy salute. He toweled off the beads of sweat from his bare chest, wiped his hands, and carefully slid off the top of the cabin. Not used to the rocking and pitching, he held onto the railing as he slowly made his way to the helm.

Gibbs released his hold on the wheel so that Tony could slide in front of him. A pleading look of borderline terror from Tony made Gibbs smile affectionately. He grabbed Tony's hands and placed them on the wheel, holding them securely in place with his own. He grinned in satisfaction when Tony's breath caught and his body shuddered under his rough touch.

"Just keep it right there. I'll just be a minute," Gibbs crooned in his ear before backing away.

In that minute, seemingly out of nowhere, a storm began to rage. Sheets of heavy rain fell, the wind picked up and the deep dark waters turned angry. Out of the corner of his eye, Gibbs saw the unthinkable happen. The boat pitched violently and a rogue wave crested over the side. When the wave receded, Tony was gone.

"Nooooooo!" Gibbs screamed as he frantically searched for any sign of Tony over the railings. "TONY! TONY!" he shouted repeatedly into the gale-force wind.

As soon as it started, however, the freak storm was over. The sun shone brightly and the water and wind suddenly calmed. Gibbs stood in stunned disbelief. Unshed tears began to burn his eyes. He swiped furiously at them and called out for Tony again. This time, his desperate plea was answered with a sputtered cough coming from the stern.

Gibbs leaned over the railing to find Tony holding on for dear life to the metal ladder affixed to the side.

"Oh thank God," he declared as he grabbed Tony's arm and hauled him back into the safety of the boat. Dropping down onto the bench seat, Tony looked as scared and dazed as he felt. Gibbs methodically but efficiently checked for any signs of injury. Thankfully, except for a small bump on his forehead and a few scrapes and bruises he was not seriously hurt. Lifting the back bench seat, Gibbs retrieved a dry beach towel from the storage bin underneath it and wrapped it around Tony's shoulders.

"Gibbs," Tony muttered meekly as his eyes locked on Gibbs'. "Will you - hold me," he requested.

The words were music to his ears, but Gibbs needed reassurance. Tony grabbed his hand and smiled sweetly, his emerald eyes flashing with love and affection. Gibbs swallowed hard knowing there would be no turning back.

As he wrapped his free arm tightly around Tony's shoulders, Gibbs turned to face him, and his heart swelled with a sense of love and peace. It was now or never. He leaned forward and found his lips captured in the most amazing tender kiss.

Gibbs was rudely pulled from his dream by another loud crash as more of the house collapsed into the basement, crushing the boat - the temporary shelter that had saved his life - into a random pile of broken lumber. Two more joists fell, one falling toward him. Gibbs hunched over and used his arms in an attempt to protect his head and neck, but thankfully it was the furnace that took a direct hit instead of him.

Now trapped between the water heater and furnace surrounded by a mountain of rubble, Gibbs sat in the darkness and began to lose hope.

"Tony," he whispered plaintively. With the dream still fresh in his mind, Gibbs allowed tears to trickle from the corners of his eyes. In every imaginable way, he feared his time - their time - was running out.

"Gibbs?"


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally time to bring them together and also merge varying POV's into one chapter. The demarcation line marks changing POV's and authors. Thanks for reading!

****

Tony was so focused on juggling his pack and his flashlight while carefully choosing every step that he almost walked right past Jethro’s house without even looking up. It had been extremely difficult going for the last block and he’d climbed over, around, and even up trees and debris to stick to a relatively steady route.

It was silent again. In part he was grateful for this. Tony didn’t know what he would have done if he had heard cries for help coming from somewhere in the jumbled remains of the once beautiful and achingly familiar neighborhood. Deep down he knew that there wouldn’t be a choice. That he would respond to any pleas or cries for help out of duty or instinct or something else entirely, all the while dying a little inside at the delay it caused him in getting to Jethro. It was just how he was made. But the silence remained all-encompassing, isolating in its firm grip on the alien world around him.

He couldn’t say what it was that made him stop suddenly, made him turn. So much around him was unrecognizable that finding the familiar in all of it was jarring. When he recognized the triptych window in the two stories of green, wood siding, the well-worn front steps that led to the door that was always open, muscles that were tired and burning immediately suffused with energy, and he nearly vaulted over the downed tree that stood between him and that door. Relief washed over him at the fact that the house looked largely intact. The beautiful leaded glass windows were blown out, the shutters gone, the screen door sat askew on its hinges, and as he approached, he saw that several pieces of siding had been ripped clean off, but compared to what he had seen on his journey here, the fact that the house was still standing was a miracle. Perhaps the strangest thing he found outside was that just above the door, three 2x4’s had been driven into the side of the house like they were nails. He couldn’t see how deep they penetrated but the force it would take to do something like that was surely awesome, and he shuddered at the thought of Jetho having endured the onslaught so directly.

“Gibbs!” he yelled at the top of his lungs before his fingers even closed around the doorknob. It turned without resistance, and he barreled into the entryway.

“Gibbs are you…” The shout ended in a whisper as he entered the living room area where he and Gibbs had shared beers and steaks and silence for so many nights. The room was in complete shambles. Beneath the window, the couch still stood just as it always had. Even the neat stack of Jethro’s blankets and the small decorative pillows-one of the many wives’ touches certainly- were exactly where they belonged, but the rest of it…

Tony took a step forward and a board groaned and popped ominously beneath his feet. Afraid to even breathe given the destruction around him and realizing that the intact façade of the house dangerously belied the true extent of the damage, Tony stood rooted to the floor and shone his flashlight as far as he could into the interior of what had been Gibbs’ home. The fireplace appeared to have provided some stability to the outer wall of the living room but there was something wrong here too. The floor seemed to slope alarmingly toward the kitchen and as he followed it with the Maglite’s beam, he found the dramatically jagged edge of the hardwood where it suddenly became blackness and realized he was shining his light into an open hole. There was nothing to see past that point as the ceiling between Jethro’s extremely informal dining room and the kitchen had collapsed in that area. Instantly afraid that the floor might give in beneath his weight or a larger section of the ceiling give out above him, Tony retreated with extreme caution to the edge of the room and the relative reassurance of its intact wall.

“Oh Jethro,” Tony breathed, “I’m so sorry.” He felt tears cloud his eyes momentarily, realizing what this type of loss would mean to Gibbs. An ominous snapping sound somewhere in the superstructure above him followed by a cascade of plaster dust brought another wave of urgency.

Basement…he needed to get to the basement.

“Gibbs!” Tony called, hearing the rising panic in his own voice. “If you’re here just give me a yell, a bang, anything. I’ll find you, I promise.” He stopped moving and waited, holding his breath.

There was nothing, just the silence, just the frame of the house continually protesting gravity with little creaks and groans.  

“Goddamnit, Jethro, this is not a time to hold out on me. You can go back to being the strong silent type another day.” He tried to stop the shaking of his hands as he moved very carefully along an outside wall towards the entrance to the basement stairs. Tony couldn’t see beyond the area where the ceiling had come down in the kitchen, couldn’t tell the true extent of the damage, but he knew it was bad. Really bad. Dust still hung in the air everywhere he swung the beam of light and floorboards cracked and moaned their tortured warnings beneath his feet with every step, but he kept moving.

The thick beams separating the mud room from the kitchen had held the entrance open and he squeezed around a jagged 2x4 to find that the basement door was shut tight. This wasn’t entirely unusual, especially if Gibbs had been preparing for the storm. Tony turned the handle and it gave easily, but the door did not move when he pushed against it. “Gibbs!” Tony called again. “Gibbs, please answer me!” He put all of his weight into the door and felt no give, tried to kick it in but with no success. Behind him, something large and heavy shifted warningly and he decided that his tact of violence against the unmoving slab of wood might be doing more harm than good. His mind was racing now, panicking, something that should have been completely bred out of him after years as a cop, as an agent, and yet here it was, rising up his throat and squeezing his heart. He placed his hand gently against the door and took a deep breath.

_Think._

Tony found he couldn’t think. Damnit, he was always better at talking than thinking. Okay, so he could talk, right? It didn’t matter if Gibbs could hear him or not.

 He cleared his throat and spoke into the darkness.

“Gibbs? I don’t know if you can hear me. I don’t know if you’re here, but I’m here, okay? I’m here and I need you to be alright. I need you to help me because, you know, you’re the boss, Gibbs. And right now I need my boss. I need one of those good old fashioned slaps to the head you’re so fond of because I can’t think of a damn thing other than the fact that you can’t answer me right now. And I know I shouldn’t tell you this, but I’m pretty scared right now. I’m scared, Gibbs…” His voice faded out a little and he forced air into his lungs once more. “So, just be okay, okay?” He rested his head and his hand against the wood of the door, stroking down the familiar grain with his fingertips.

Oddly enough this little appeal helped clear his head a bit, helped quell the swirls of panic in his gut that told him with nauseating certainty that Gibbs _was_ here. Somewhere.

“Okay,” Tony resumed talking out loud but managed to dig in and shift his brain into problem solving mode, “can’t get down the stairs. Need another way in. If only you’d told us how in the hell you got those damn boats out of the basement, Boss.” His mind flashed to the room beyond the door he could not open, to the pulsing memories of wood beneath his hands and the sweet taste of Bourbon on his lips. Tools, wood, stairs, workbench…Tony’s mind did an inventory, trying to come up with a solution. “Window!” His eyes flew open from where they had fallen half-closed in concentration. “Boss, you have a window!” He shouted into the creaking silence.

Making his way back to the front door-the exit to the back deck was blocked beyond hope-Tony hopped the rail and discovered that the obstacle of Jethro’s privacy fence had been conveniently removed for him by the storm. His flashlight immediately lit on the thin opening at ground level toward the rear of the foundation and he kicked aside some minor debris before throwing himself flat and shining his light through the cloudy glass. What he saw immediately made his breath catch.

The basement wasn’t exactly a basement anymore. Part of the first floor, maybe even a little of the second, was now residing in its space. The stairs were mostly gone, and at least one support beam had come down which was clearly what was preventing the door from opening. He certainly wasn’t going to make any progress that way. God help him if Gibbs was somewhere in all of that.

The window didn’t open from the outside nor did it afford him much of a view. Deciding that one more broken basement window was nothing in the grand scheme of things, he took the butt of the Maglite and smashed the glass, shed his bag and his slicker, and placed the coat over the edge so he could lean in. “Gibbs!” he called into the blackness, sweeping the beam of the flashlight over the room from top to bottom systematically.

A small sound caught his ear, a breathy sigh that could have been the blood pounding in his veins.

“Gibbs!” he tried again. “Jethro are you in there?”

The sound came again, louder this time, closer to a moan, and his worst fears suddenly slammed into him full force. Tony aimed his flashlight toward the far corner where Gibbs’ water heater and furnace resided, the area where he thought he now heard rustling. “Oh Jesus, Gibbs.”

Between Tony and the sound lay the crushed remnants of Gibbs’ latest maritime project. The thick ribs of the boat were splintered like toothpicks beneath the weight of a ton or more of beams, plaster, pipes, furniture, and God knew what else. But the thing that reached up and grabbed Tony by the throat, the thing that stole the air from his lungs and stilled his heart, was the blood. There was blood on the little space of open cement, blood on the pulverized remains of the boat, too much blood, Jethro’s blood.

Even as the bile rose up in his throat and panic tried to reassert its hold, Tony heard something that made his world stop.

He heard his name.

 It was slurred and heavy and _oh_ so quiet but there was no doubt in his mind about what he had heard, especially when it came again just slightly louder. Somewhere in all of this mess, Jethro was calling him.

“Hang on Gibbs, I’m coming.” Tony pulled out of the window and flipped himself around, head spinning, the only thought in it that he had to get Jethro out, safe, _alive_ , and he had to do it fast. He took hold of himself, forced himself to think about what he was jumping into before he landed in a position no better that Gibbs’ current one.

_Breathe…in-2-3-out-2-3…_

Gibbs was alive so he could cross that very worst case scenario off the list, he was making noise which meant that he was at least partially conscious and that in itself was reason to celebrate. The fact that he wasn’t answering, wasn’t even _visible_ beneath the ruin of his basement, well, that was something he intended to deal with immediately.

Shoving his backpack through the window to drop it as gently as possible and then turning onto his belly, Tony shimmied feet first through the tight opening, used his toes to gain some small purchase against the inside wall to control his descent, and eventually landed unceremoniously in a relatively clear area near where the stairs to Gibbs’ basement had ended just a few hours ago.

“Gibbs?” Tony called out, reorienting himself and zeroing in on the place where he had seen and heard Jethro a moment before. “Gibbs, it’s DiNozzo…it’s Tony. You still with me?” This time there was only silence and the odd feeling of heaviness as he grew keenly aware of the weight that was perched so precariously above their heads. A moment later, a point of light in the deeper darkness caught his eye and he nearly hooted for joy. “Oh, thank God!” It was perhaps the most sincere and heart-felt supplication which had ever passed his lips.

Moving slowly, trying to kick what small debris he could out of his way, Tony sought the easiest route to the far corner. He ruled out up and over pretty quickly. The tangle of beams, wires, and plywood extended past where the former ceiling of the room had been and it was abundantly clear any shift might cause it to collapse further. To his left, near the remnants of Jethro’s basement stairs, a support beam leaned down at a sharp angle from the door above, but it seemed to have largely held back the collapse from the first floor, and there was enough space to pass beneath it if he stayed close to the wall. Deciding it was his best shot at present, he moved cautiously forward, glancing nervously at the remaining ceiling above him each time something creaked or shifted.

Tony made it under the beam with no problem but once he was past it and its relative shelter, he had to choose his footing very carefully up a small mound. A board tilted beneath his weight and he cursed as his foot shot into the empty space beneath without warning. Something sharp bit unmercifully into his calf but he remained still, hoping the world around him would maintain its tenuous stability. When there was no further movement amidst the rubble, he carefully extracted his boot, wincing at the wetness he now felt on his leg. Whatever the damage, there was no time to deal with it now and he silently thanked the inventor of the tetanus shot. “Hang on Boss, I’m almost there.”

Immediately in front of Tony, a heavy beam and a mass of plywood T’d with the top of the water heater and furnace to form a sort of roof atop a pile of miscellaneous debris. “Gibbs?” he called loudly, moving aside a few smaller pieces at the peak of the heap. The whole damn thing was like a big Jenga game, move the wrong piece and the world came crashing down. Slowly and carefully he cleared a hole big enough to get a good view inside the space behind it.

“Dammit, DiNozzo!” a muffled and raspy voice barked at him from a few inches away.

“Sorry, Boss.” Tony moved the beam of the flashlight but not before his heart thrilled at the strong sound of Jethro’s normal cantankerousness. For a few heartbeats they simply stared at each other, taking comfort in the unlooked-for, the un-hoped for, presence of the familiar. Gibbs looked like shit but at least he looked relatively whole. Tony took in the blood on his face, some dried, some fresher looking, the miscellaneous rips and tears in his clothing, the blood stains and odd strips of cloth that seemed to be everywhere. The things that pulled at him, that made his heart break all over again, were the streaks of tears through the blood, the unmistakable signs of Jethro’s agony.

Clearing his suddenly tight throat and extending his hand, he offered it to Gibbs through the small space and felt slightly trembling fingers tighten around his own for a few brief seconds. “Hate to be the one to break this to you, Boss, but I think I have some bad news about your boat.”

A small smile bloomed across Jethro’s blood-smeared face. “Ya think?”

* * *

 

Gibbs was certain he was dreaming, or dead.  Pain.  So much pain and darkness.  If he was dead, he knew he had landed in Hell.  Voices, no, one muffled voice in a constant loop calling his name. 

 

_"Gibbs!"_

 

The sound of breaking glass followed by another desperate shouting of his name finally registered.  It was clearer this time and familiar, a deep booming voice laced with fear and desperation.  DiNozzo!  Of course it was Tony – his loyal St. Bernard – who found him.

 

_"Gibbs it's DiNozzo ... it's Tony."_

 

Gibbs closed his eyes and sighed with relief.  "Tony," came out as a weak, pained groan. 

 

Unable to see past the remnants of his house piled all around him, Gibbs reached down and felt around for the Maglite.  Pulling it out from under his leg, he fumbled with it until he found the power button.  The beam of light must have shone like a beacon because he immediately heard _"Oh thank God!"_ followed by a loud rustling.

 

Gibbs snorted at the intermittent curses he heard uttered by his would-be rescuer as he climbed through, on, or over God only knew what obstacles to get to him.  He waited patiently, not that he had much of a choice, and listened as Tony rambled on, demanding desperately that he _"Hold on, Boss.  I'm almost there."_

 

Chunks of wood and plaster were cast aside while the house continued to groan as what remained of the structure protested against the pull of gravity.

 

Time was running out. 

 

Gibbs knew that Tony was strong and wouldn't leave him, but he also knew that getting out was going to have to be a joint effort.

 

Steeling himself for the inevitable stabs of pain, Gibbs slammed his eyes shut  and clenched his jaw tightly as he pushed away the joist that had helped create a makeshift lean-to when it fell against the furnace next to him.  Seeing an opening appear, Gibbs slumped tiredly back against the wall.  Any physical exertion served only to exacerbate the pain while sapping his waning strength. 

 

"Dammit, DiNozzo," he barked, squinting and shielding his eyes from the blinding light.  A strong hand gently lowered his bloody, bandaged arm away from his dirty, blood and tear-streaked face.  Gibbs slowly opened his eyes to discover Tony leaning over him, looking more terrified than he could ever remember.

 

"Sorry, Boss," Tony said contritely, then cleared his throat.  "Hate to be the one to break this to you, Boss, but I think I have some bad news about your boat." 

 

Gibbs initial scowl morphed into a crooked smile.  "Ya think?" he croaked with a dry, dust-choked voice.  Wincing in pain, he shoved more rubble out the way.

 

Working together as the house continued to shift and shudder, they carefully cleared the remaining debris away from Gibbs' shelter beneath the landing of the stairs.  It was a slow and methodical process due to the jumbled pile of wood, plaster, mangled fixtures, twisted metal, and a tangled mess of bare, exposed electrical wiring hanging precariously over their heads.  

 

Hobbling slightly, Tony began to clear and widen a path to the window he had climbed through but stopped when he got his first good look at Gibbs.Battered, bloody, and bruised, he looked exactly like a man whose house had just fallen on him.  The dirty, blood-soaked rags hastily wrapped around his arm and leg were coming undone and a fresh gash near his left temple was bleeding profusely, adding to the dried blood already caked around his tired eyes.

 

"Help me up," Gibbs hissed as he tried to scoot out from between the water heater and furnace.  His aching ribs and extremely swollen left leg protested even the slightest movement as he struggled to extricate himself.  He held his throbbing left arm tightly to his midsection as he inched his way out into the spot Tony had just cleared.

 

"Jesus Gibbs, you're really hurt." 

 

"You don't look so hot yourself," Gibbs grumbled defensively.  Offering his hand for Tony to help pull him onto his feet, he did a double take when he realized that Tony was now kneeling beside him - and pouting. 

 

Even wet, dirty, with his clothes in shambles, and his hair a mass of dust-covered random spikes, Tony was still a sight for sore eyes.  Seeing genuine concern mixed with fear leveled at him, Gibbs softened his gruffer than intended tone.  "I'm sorry.  Are _you_ okay, Tony?"

 

"I'm fine," Tony shouted incredulously in response.  "You look like shit though!  Hang on a sec.  I brought a first aid kit."

 

While Tony retrieved his backpack, Gibbs managed to fight off a new wave of nausea as his headache came back with a vengeance.  He knew he was hurt - badly, but figured that with Tony's help they could navigate the stairs.  It might be slow going, but Gibbs had managed to get out of worse situations, battlefields and bombed out hostile villages, while injured _and_ taking live fire.  Ten steps to freedom would be a cakewalk in comparison.  It would require relying on years of deeply ingrained training and discipline, but he would somehow find the strength to get them both to safety. 

 

Gibbs' heart sank when the beam of his flashlight fell on what little remained of the stairs.  The middle section had been nearly obliterated, and what was still standing was impassable.  A large beam had fallen and was wedged up against the door.  They were going to have to find another way out.  Gibbs sighed knowing that the only option was one of the high windows.

 

"Here, drink this," Tony said as he shoved an opened bottle of water into Gibbs' uninjured hand. 

 

Mindful of the nausea, Gibbs took a couple of tentative sips to wash down the dust that had threatened to choke him. Cool, refreshing water had never tasted so good.  Satisfied that he could keep it down, he took a healthy swig and then another.  Rejuvenated in spirit and now able to find his voice, Gibbs muttered, "Thanks.  Okay, we gotta find a way out of here." 

 

He offered the bottle to Tony, who took it and set it on the floor.  He grabbed the first aid kit from his backpack and began pulling out gauze, tape and a large bottle of antiseptic.

 

"Gibbs, Jethro, at least let me check you over first," Tony pled.

 

Knowing they didn't have time to argue, Gibbs relented to having his wounds properly tended to.  He ran down his suspected injuries - sprained wrist, concussion, broken ribs, and possible broken ankle, along with a myriad of deep cuts and bruises.  The look on Tony's face confirmed that he was indeed damn lucky to be alive. 

 

He sat still as Tony poured some water on a thick pad of gauze and started gently wiping the dried blood from around his eyes.  Tony leaned in and Gibbs was drawn to the concerned green eyes assessing him.  The tip of Tony's tongue stuck out as he concentrated on the task at hand.  Mere inches apart, Gibbs could feel Tony's breath on his face, and he could smell the musky scent of his skin mixed with a hint of apple fragrance in his hair.  Gibbs smiled.

 

"Bleeding's mostly stopped," Tony stated clinically, but softly, as he cleaned and applied a bandage over the newer gash, still wet with fresh blood. 

 

Gibbs felt long, deft fingers stroking through the hair at his temple.  It was soothing and reassuring, and _Jesus_ , it felt so damn intimate.  But it was the slight tremble that Tony couldn’t hide, the quick flick of pink tongue past parted lips, and the flutter of pulse at his neck that spoke to what was really happening between them right now.  Reaching up slowly, Jethro wrapped his fingers around Tony’s wrist, stilled his movements before he could pull away from the touch.  Their eyes locked for a moment in the silence, a thousand implicit things passing between them before Gibbs spoke, breaking the spell.

 

"I'm really glad you’re here, Tony," he said with choked sincerity, keeping his grip on the younger man firm for a few heartbeats longer until he reluctantly released him.

 

Tony swallowed hard, and Gibbs saw regret, sadness, and, he hoped, a hint of longing in his shiny eyes.

 

After another long moment, Gibbs looked away and asked, "So, how bad is it?"

 

"Like I said, bleeding stopped ..." Tony was cut off by a weak head-slap.

 

"Not me, DiNozzo!  The house, hell, the damn city," Gibbs muttered sadly as he took in the remnants of the boat lying splinted in a massive heap of destruction.  At that moment, the house groaned and creaked as an eerie reminder of the devastation above and around them.

 

Tony sighed. "It's bad, but look, Gibbs - Jethro, let's get you patched up and get out of here," he said as he reached for the gauze and tape.

 

Gibbs watched as Tony carefully and methodically unwound the bloody rags from around his arm.  Each layer of cloth that came off was soaked through with blood.  The muttered, "Jesus, Jethro," as the final layer came off got his attention. 

 

Tony's pained eyes bored into his.  "S'ok, Tony.  Just gonna need a couple of stitches," Gibbs announced matter-of-factly with a shrug to mask his sudden feeling of vulnerability.  He was more afraid than he was willing to admit, but he wanted and needed to hide it from Tony.  All things considered, he really didn't know why, except he knew that Tony counted on him to be strong.  More than once, while sneaking up on his team unawares, he had overheard Tony refer to him as a sort of superhero.  Abby considered him indestructible, almost omnipotent, and McGee just seemed to be in constant awe of him.  Ziva put it best when she said simply, "Because he is Gibbs!"

 

"More like a couple of dozen.  Okay, this might sting," Tony stated, all business-like as he unscrewed the cap on the antiseptic.  After washing away the dried blood and applying the antiseptic, Tony efficiently re-wrapped Gibbs' arm and secured the gauze in place with pre-measured lengths of tape from the dispenser. 

 

"Not gonna be able to do much for your ribs, but let me look at your leg," Tony ordered.

 

They both froze and an awkward silence fell over them as the house continued to groan.  Tony took the sound of crashing from above and the dust raining down on them as his cue to work faster, _much_ faster.

 

"You know, believe it or not the boat saved my life," Gibbs stated as he let his head fall back against the wall.  "I dove under it when the lights went out.  Don't remember much after that, except waking up with it damn near crushing me.  Crawled over here just before ...".

 

Realizing just how close he had come to actually _being_ crushed, it was Gibbs turn to swallow hard.  It was true; timing _was_ everything.  Ten more minutes and he would surely have ended up in pieces like the boat was now.  He looked up to find Tony gaping at him as the realization hit him hard.

 

"Gonna need a splint if we're gonna get you out of here," Tony suggested as he treated the leg wound with the same efficiency as he did with Gibbs' arm.

 

"Under the workbench, there's some scrap lumber," Gibbs said before barking out a painful rib-jarring laugh at the absurdity of that statement.  Everything around him was scrap lumber!

 

Tony couldn't help but laugh with him, and it seemed to ease the growing nervous tension.  He dug through the remnants of the boat and held up various pieces of wood for Gibbs' inspection.  Pleased to quickly find two suitable pieces, Tony grabbed a few of the t-shirts from the nearby pile to use to bind the splint to Gibbs' leg. 

 

He was about to tear apart a black Brooks & Dunn t-shirt, but Gibbs yanked it out of his hands.  At Tony's furrowed brow and barked 'Gibbs, what the hell', he muttered a semi-apologetic, "I'll explain later." 

 

"Sorry, Boss.  Didn't know you were such a big country music fan.  Not really my thing.  I'm more of a jazz man.  You know, Miles Davis, Coltrane.  At least we have one thing in common music-wise.  We both hate that crap Abby listens to," Tony said with chuckle.

 

Gibbs barked out a laugh before being struck with a thought.  "Hey, how the hell did you get here anyway?"

 

As he worked to get the makeshift splint in place, Tony ran down the events of the evening as if he was giving Gibbs a sit rep in the bullpen.  Gibbs was proud and impressed, but not surprised that Tony had taken on the mantle of leadership.  It suited him; it always had.

 

The sugar coating of how serious the situation really was began at the place in Tony's adventurous tale when he reached Gibbs' neighborhood.  Gibbs watched the ever changing expressions on Tony's face and knew that he was holding something back.  Gibbs didn't push, though; he would see it all soon enough, God willing.

 

"There.  That should work until we can get you a real doctor," Tony said as he packed up the first aid kit and shoved it into his backpack.  He pulled out another bottle of water then attempted to stand, only to be pulled back down when Gibbs grabbed his arm.

 

"Tony, you're bleeding," Gibbs declared when he noticed that Tony's pant leg was soaked with blood. 

 

"It's probably nothing.  Just a scratch; nail or something got me.  C'mon, Gibbs, we gotta get you out of here."

 

"The hell it is!  Sit your ass down and let me look at it," Gibbs barked, leaving no room for debate or discussion.  As expected, Tony obeyed without further objection.  "You got any scissors in there?  Need to cut your pant leg."

 

Gibbs was all business as he looked Tony dead in the eye.  Expecting him to whine and complain about having an expensive pair of designer jeans cut up, the mischievous twinkle that greeted him was disarming.  The crooked, almost evil grin that followed was even more so.

 

"If you want me to take my pants off, Jethro, all you have to do is ask," Tony practically purred.

 

Tony DiNozzo, with his youthful good looks and impetuous charm, could turn any situation into something sexually charged.  Unabashed teasing, flirting, and outright seduction were dangerous tools in his repertoire, and he was never afraid or ashamed to use them. 

 

Caught off guard by the unexpected seductive tone in Tony's voice, Gibbs raised a challenging eyebrow.  _'Two can play this game,'_ he thought. 

 

"Well, DiNozzo, if we make it out of here, I might just take you up on that," Gibbs shot back, flashing a playful grin of his own. 

 

Tony's wide eyes and hitched breath in response gave Gibbs hope, but the timing couldn't have been worse.  Had Tony made that offer on any other Friday night, well, the possibilities of what _could_ have followed were endless.  But now was certainly not the time or the place to explore the possibilities.  Aside from the obvious dangers, Gibbs was feeling dizzy and nauseous again. 

 

Pushing aside his own pain for the time being, he gingerly leaned forward and grabbed Tony's backpack.  With a shaky hand he used the small bandage scissors from the first aid kit to slowly cut Tony's pant leg all the way up to just above his knee.  The fabric was all but glued to his skin by thick, coagulating blood.  Gibbs apologized as he carefully pulled the denim away, yanking out a fair amount of hair in the process.  Gibbs smirked, but for the most part ignored Tony's musing observation that he now understood what getting a leg-waxing felt like.

 

There was a deep, jagged cut and a thick trail of blood running down into Tony's boot.  "Dammit," Gibbs cursed.  "Tony, you've lost a lot of blood.  You need fluids." 

 

Gibbs twisted off the cap of Tony's bottle of water and ordered him to drink it - all of it.  Again, Tony dutifully complied, but shook his head when Gibbs' offered him one of the power bars.  Gibbs thrust it at him forcefully in a silent command.  Tony rolled his eyes but took it, peeled back the wrapper, and made a show of gnawing off a large bite.

 

With his earlier adrenaline rush gone, Tony was beginning to pale and perspire, and his breathing was becoming shallow.  Having no idea how much blood Tony had lost, though it was obviously a fair amount, Gibbs was concerned that he might very well go into shock.  Seeing that the wound ended above the top of Tony's boot, Gibbs cleaned it using the rest of the antiseptic.

 

"Son of a bitch," Tony cried through clenched teeth as the antiseptic flowed into the wound.  He balled his hands into fists and slammed his eyes shut.  The pain caused his forehead to bead with sweat.

 

"Just breathe, Tony," Gibbs comforted as he patted Tony's shoulder.

 

Getting a jerky nod in response, Gibbs proceeded to wrap several layers of gauze tightly around Tony's calf to staunch the bleeding.  Pulling two old, thin, worn towels from the rag pile, he tossed one to Tony and began tearing the other.  Tony followed suit and together they tied strips around his leg to add pressure and to further secure the bandages.

 

With their wounds properly field dressed, they took a few minutes to rest and regroup until another crash from above reminded them how precarious their current situation was.  Tony slowly stood and surveyed the basement for the best and, more importantly, quickest way out. 

 

Retreating back to the window he had climbed through, Tony resorted to talking.  "It won't be easy, Boss, but one of these windows is probably going to be our best bet.  I was thinking if you could get up on the workbench, I could pull you out.  But, I guess seeing how we're a pair of walking wounded, we may have to call in the cavalry," he suggested with a frown. 

 

A moment later he cracked a smile.  "Hey, the radio!  A cop up the street gave me a police band radio. I _might_ be able to call and have him get an emergency crew down here." 

 

Getting no response to his rescue plan, Tony turned around to find Gibbs lying on his side, unconscious. 

 

Hobbling as quickly as his throbbing, bandaged leg would allow, he made his way back to Gibbs pleading, "Oh no, no, no!  Don't you dare do this to me, Gibbs!  Jethro!"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

****

* * *

"Gibbs…hey, Gibbs…Jethro, stay with me. No sleeping now, okay, Boss? Need to get you out of here and then you can sleep all you want," Tony pleaded as he held the older man's weight gingerly, avoiding the worst of his wounds and pressure to his ribs even in his panic. His efforts were futile though, and Gibbs had slipped unshakably into unconsciousness, at least for the time being. Trembling fingers at Jethro's throat, Tony closed his eyes in relief when he felt the strong and rhythmic flutter beneath his fingertips and listened in the silence to the sound of the older man's heavy, drawn out breaths.

Jesus, they needed to get out of this fucking basement and they needed to do it soon. The wound to Jethro's head looked superficial enough but clearly something had hit him hard enough to knock him out for a time and God knows what damage had been done inside that thick skull of his.

Cradling Gibbs in his arms a moment longer before reluctantly lowering him back to the cold concrete, Tony looked to the window in desperation. A few feet away, it might as well have been 100 miles. With Jethro's injuries and the piles of debris around them there was no way he could carry 175 pounds of dead weight even across the room. Dragging him far wasn't an option either, at least without risk of further harm to them both.

Tony needed help and he knew it. The only problem was, he would likely have to leave Gibbs to find it, something that went against every single one of his instincts. Giving in to the inevitable despite his screaming gut, Tony took a moment to clear a short path along the wall to the place beneath Jethro's former basement stairs where the heavy beam leaning down from above would provide some shelter and protection. Before he made another move, he pushed tentatively at the beam but felt no give. Using a bit more force, he managed to adequately convince himself that it was wedged firmly enough in place not to pose additional danger should things above choose to shift or collapse further.

Returning to Jethro's side, Tony knelt beside him and tried to choose the points on Gibbs' body that would cause him the least amount of pain and distress. "Sorry about this, Boss," he grunted as his hands slipped beneath Gibbs' shoulders and he pulled him awkwardly into the relatively sheltered hollow. Tony quickly dug in his pack and pulled out a clean t-shirt. Rolling it tight, he slipped it beneath Jethro's head and tried to ignore the little moan that slipped from between Gibbs' parted lips at the movement. Awake, Jethro could make a good show of hiding just how much he was hurting, but unconscious, his pain went unmasked.

"Gonna have to leave you for a minute, Gibbs. You need help and I can't bring you to the people who can help you so I'm gonna need them to come to us, okay? Don't know if you can hear me but I'm not going to let anything happen to you. I didn't come this far to…to fail, Boss. I didn't come this far to leave without you, do you understand me?" Tony felt tears gathering behind his eyes as his fingers found their way into Jethro's hair and began to stroke gently, rhythmically.

Gibbs remained silent and pale. In this space illuminated only by the glow of their flashlights, his skin seemed the same color as his ashen hair and brows, the uniformity of tone broken only by the pink stain of his parted lips.

Something pulled Tony forward, had him bending down awkwardly until his face was bare inches from Jethro's. He felt the whisper of life-affirming breath against his face, smelled the sweat and blood that clung to Gibbs' skin, and in that moment he made an impetuous decision. With the greatest reverence, Tony leaned in and pressed his lips to Jethro's slack mouth gently, fleetingly, and then hovered there for the space of a few precious heartbeats. Half of him expected his boss to rouse at the touch and hit him so hard his head spun around, but when there was no response, he chanced another chaste kiss to the older man's lips and a last lingering one against his greyed temple before finally relinquishing his hold.

With a last longing look, Tony turned for the window and the world beyond.

Going out the window proved to be a bit more complicated than coming in. Tony made a precarious set of steps from the surrounding debris which allowed him to at least get his arms out into the open air, but with nothing solid to grab on to and pull himself through the hole, it was a tremendous struggle that took all of his strength to accomplish. Any thoughts that remained of somehow getting Gibbs up through that high, narrow opening on his own were dashed as his ribs and belly grated painfully over the sill and he wriggled into the moonlit darkness above ground.

Tony blinked at the change in illumination. The basement had been pitch black with the exception of the light thrown by their flashlights, but here, the moon cast eerie, filmy shadows over the strange landscape.

Wasting no more time, Tony quickly extracted the small radio from his pack and turned the dial to the channel the emergency worker had told him to use. He flipped the power switch and immediately heard staticky and garbled voices coming back at him. Hope surging in his veins, he quickly pressed the button which allowed him to broadcast and spoke clearly into the radio.

"This is Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo. I'm at 505 East Laurel Street and I need immediate assistance, over." He stopped and listened for a moment, hoping for a response. The voices on the channel continued their chatter but no one addressed him directly.

"I repeat: I am at 505 East Laurel and I have a seriously injured man in need of immediate assistance. Can anyone hear me? Please respond, over."

This time when he released the button the radio remained silent in his hand and on closer examination he found that the power light had gone out. Heart sinking, Tony growled in frustration and worked hard not to throw the radio across the yard. He'd known it was a gamble when he took it but he'd been hoping for a better result.

Perhaps the teams had moved close enough now that they could hear him? It felt like hours since he had left the reassuring circle of halogen lights several blocks away and yet he knew in total, it had been less than an hour. Tony moved toward the front of the house and strained to see or hear anything that seemed like a human presence.

"Hello," he called as loudly as his lungs would allow. "Hello, I need help. Can anyone hear me?" Tony cupped his hands around his mouth and bellowed into the darkness. He waited, holding his breath, listening for anything that would give him hope. In the deeper silence he heard a buzz like that of a dozen angry bees and identified it as the now-familiar drone of chain saws. Realizing that the possibility of being heard was infinitesimal if his would-be rescuers were surrounded by that racket, he moved back to the window, his only way back to Jethro, and pulled out his cell phone.

Tony's first thought was to try and reach help through 911, but he quickly realized that the service must be completely overwhelmed with a crisis of this magnitude, and his call for help would be one of thousands that needed answering tonight. No, he needed help from inside, help from resources that weren't being sapped and spread far too thin in the current state of emergency. He needed strings pulled and he knew just the man to pull them.

Flipping open his phone, Tony cursed at the No Service message that lit up the top corner of his screen after a few moments of agonizing anxiety. There had to be a signal somewhere nearby, had to be. He refused to believe otherwise.

Face tilted skyward, Tony sucked in a deep breath and tried to release some of the tension that had his head spinning, his heart pounding, and his shoulders up over his ears. "Listen, I know we don't talk very much. To be honest, I'm not even sure who I'm talking to anymore, but I could really use some help right now." He felt like a complete idiot, even though there wasn't another living soul around to witness this little conversation, but he continued anyway. "See, there's a man down there and he needs me. Well, maybe I need him a little too…maybe more than I'd like sometimes, but that's beside the point. The point is, I can't help him by myself right now. I can't keep him safe. But I know people who can. I know how to save him if you can just…if you can just give me a little something to work with here. Anything at all would be good." Not sure exactly what he was expecting to come from the one-sided exchange but pretty sure it wasn't hurting anything, Tony concluded with a little nod of his head and returned his attention to the phone.

Slowly, he moved one step at a time back toward the front of the house, waiting to see if he could pick up any signal at all. Precious minutes were ticking away and he was having no luck. He'd paced the front of the house and then returned to the side, not comfortable going further from Jethro. He was just eying the roof of the garage-which looked remarkably intact considering the state of the house-when a single and rather tentative looking bar appeared on the indicator panel.

Freezing in his tracks, afraid to even lift the phone to his ear, Tony moved in slow motion, pressing his thumb hesitantly to the menu button and pulling up his recent calls before scrolling to McGee's name. "You better pick up, Probie," he muttered between clenched teeth as he waited.

Three rings, four…"McGee." Tim's voice sounded clearly from the speaker.

"McGEE!" Tony nearly whooped for joy at the sound of the younger man's voice but remembered to stand relatively still.

"Tony! Thank God. We've been worried sick since your call earlier. Where in the hell are you?" The young agent's relief as well as his genuine concern was evident.

"I'm at Gibbs' place. Well, I guess you could say I'm at what's left of Gibbs' place." He hesitated a moment. "He took a pretty direct hit."

"Tony, he's not…Gibbs is okay, right? I mean he's not…" McGee left the sentence hanging.

"No. He's alive. But he's hurt."

"Hurt how?" McGee interrupted nervously before Tony could continue.

"I don't know. Few broken ribs, wrist, maybe his leg. He's lost some blood, but the stubborn old bastard managed to bandage himself up before I even got here." The thought of Jethro's tenacious, innate strength brought a passing smile to his face before he continued. "But he passed out on me a minute ago and I don't think it's the first time so I'm guessing he's got a pretty bad concussion, maybe worse." He swallowed the last word. "Even if he was awake I couldn't…I had to come in a basement window, for Christ sake." Tony ran a shaking hand through his hair, all too aware of how desperate he sounded. "I can't get him out by myself, Tim. I need help."

"Tony, are you alright? You sound…"

"I'm fine." Tony cut him off. He wasn't important now. "Cut my leg on something in the basement but it's fine." He refused to admit that it wasn't fine even though his toes felt awfully numb and the wound pulsed and throbbed wetness even through the layers of bandage.

"What about rescue workers? There has to be someone that can…"

"They're too far away, and I won't leave him here. Jesus, the rest of the house could go any minute, McGee. It's a miracle it's held this long," Tony interrupted, glancing back to the open window for reassurance.

"What do you need me to do?" Tim was suddenly all business.

"Gibbs needs medical attention, and more than anything he needs to get the hell out of that house. I need you to find a way to get someone here ASAP, no matter what it takes, Probie. Call Vance, call SecNav, hell, call the fucking President. I don't care. Pull whatever strings you have to and get someone here to help him fast." Tony was starting to lose it a little bit, something he could hear in his own voice, and yet he suddenly found he couldn't rein it in.

"I've got it covered, Tony. If I have to hijack a chopper myself, we'll get him out of there," Tim promised sincerely.

Tony was shocked at the vehemence in McGee's voice. He wouldn't have thought McByTheBook had the stones for something like that but maybe he was wrong. "I know you'll do what it takes, Tim." He took a deep breath, realizing he already felt less alone. "McGee?" he shouted into the phone when there was no response after a few seconds. "McGee!" Realizing quickly that it was a lost cause and the connection had been broken, Tony flipped the phone closed with a sigh.

He'd done what he could. He'd gotten through to someone who could help, and there was nothing more to do for the time being but go back and be with Jethro, nothing more to do but wait for help to arrive and once again trust both of their lives to the people who held them in their hands day after day.

"Hurry, McGee," Tony whispered as he turned back to the window. "Hurry."

* * *

 

Chaos had taken over the Navy Yard and by extension NCIS Headquarters. The sudden arrival of a severe cluster of storms that the greater D.C. area had not seen in nearly a decade had caught most everyone by surprise. Civil Defense sirens blared outside alerting all within earshot of the impending danger. Cars and the guard house at the main gate were abandoned as people caught in the raging tempest ran for the relative safety of the building.

The internal emergency warning system wailed, creating a controlled panic as personnel scampered to designated shelter areas. As McGee descended the stairs leading a group down to Autopsy, he was reminded of his first time executing emergency procedures; that fateful day so many years ago when Tony opened an innocent-looking envelope.

Worried when his call to the lab went unanswered, McGee was relieved to find Abby already among the dozen or so others who had taken refuge there. A mix of second shift personnel, who hadn't left before the storm hit, and incoming third shift personnel milled about while they waited for word.

Leaving Ducky to regale the huddled masses with a long-winded tale to keep them distracted, McGee snuck away. Sitting at Ducky's desk and called up the local news on his computer. McGee sighed with relief when the meteorologists showed the projected track of the strongest storm cell moving north-northeasterly, keeping its track safely west of the Navy Yard. However, a wide, green computer generated arrow lower on the map crossed right over a large section of Alexandria to the southwest.

The meteorologists manning the station's weather desk excitedly relayed information as it came in from The National Weather Service, The Storm Prediction Center, and trained spotters dispatched to various points around the county. Each report that came in was more chilling than the last. The "Channel 5 Weather Team" took full advantage of the opportunity to showcase all of the technology at their disposal.

McGee watched in stunned silence as a series of graphics and computer models appeared on the monitor. Wind speeds, rotation, vectors, dew points, inflow and outflow boundaries, all technical jargon that normally held no meaning but now painted a dire picture. His eyes went wide when street names appeared as one meteorologist zoomed in on the current Doppler radar image. The menacing hook echo at the back edge of a dark-red blob indicated that a large tornado was directly over a four-block Alexandria neighborhood comprised of E. Maple, E. Walnut, E. Linden, and E. Laurel Street.

McGee's heart sank. Gibbs lived on E. Laurel Street.

Returning to the bullpen forty minutes later after getting the all-clear, McGee washed down two Advil that Ducky had given him with the last of his cold coffee. Between the incessant alarm and accompanying flashing lights and Abby's whiny, repeated, high-pitched, screechy demands that he "Do something, McGee!" as she clung to him, McGee worried that the pounding in his head was a precursor to a full-blown migraine.

He should have been at home working on his latest book or fighting off a horde of alien invaders online like most Friday nights, but instead he felt duty-bound to wait around for Abby to finish up in the ballistics lab. Her roadster was in the shop and wouldn't be ready until Saturday at noon. Ziva had a date and couldn't wait around for Abby to finish her work, so McGee stepped up and offered to drive her home instead. Abby insisted on buying him dinner as a thank you, but those plans were obviously scuttled. Right now, McGee was just glad she was there with him, safe and out of harm's way.

McGee kept his phone clutched in his hand in the hope that Tony would call him back soon, very soon, to report that all was well, but his gut - his head and his heart - knew better. He chided himself for not trying harder to convince Tony to stay home instead of heading out on a foolish rescue mission on his own, not that Tony would have listened. McGee couldn't define exactly what it was about the two of them, but when it came to Gibbs, Tony had tunnel vision.

In order to stop Abby's desperate pleading, pacing, fidgeting, and nervous hand wringing, McGee sat her down in Tony's chair and pulled the local news feed up on the plasma. Together they watched in horror as teams of local and national reporters and camera crews converged on the city brought the first live pictures of the unimaginable devastation just a few miles away. The toll-free Red Cross Disaster Hotline number repeatedly scrolled across the bottom of the screen.

Damage was wide-spread from at least three confirmed tornadoes, the largest of which touched down 20 miles south of D.C. near Lorton. It cut a wide path of destruction as it hopped and skipped its way through towns along I-95 before finally dissipating over the Potomac. It was the green-arrow path that McGee had seen less than an hour ago.

Two weaker tornadoes had been reported on the ground by county sheriff's deputies south of Springfield and northwest of Manassas. Reports of wide-spread minor damage were beginning to flood in. Straight-line winds had knocked down trees and power lines in several areas of northern Virginia and across the Potomac into D.C. proper. Reston and Arlington to the west and most of Georgetown north of the Potomac were without power, but structural damage was mostly limited to shingles being blown off of houses, broken glass from swirling debris, and downed tree limbs and power lines blocking roadways.

All eyes were on Alexandria, which, by all accounts, suffered the brunt of the storm's fury. Parts of the densely-populated area were decimated and unrecognizable. All area hospitals, military and civilian, were recalling staff as mass casualties were expected. The unconfirmed death toll stood at two, and no one dared speculate how high it might climb.

Preliminary estimates by the National Weather Service put the Lorton tornado at a devastating EF3, with winds in excess of 136 to 165 miles per hour, or possibly an unimaginable EF4, with winds of up to 200 miles per hour. Of course, it would take days or weeks of expert assessment of the damage to confirm, but the expert being interviewed on ZNN feared the latter.

"Oh my God, Gibbs," Abby exclaimed mutely through her hands that were clamped firmly over her mouth to stifle the scream that threatened to burst out.

Growing up in the bayou parishes of Louisiana, Abby was no stranger to the awesome, unpredictable, and often lethal power of Mother Nature. Frantic, with jet-black tears now streaming unabated down her cheeks, Abby jumped up and threw her arms around McGee's neck and began to sob. He hugged her tightly while watching dimly lit scenes on the plasma of emergency workers pulling injured people from their collapsed homes. McGee knew things would look worse - much worse - in the daylight.

"May I have your attention please?" a loud voice boomed from the stairs. Activity in all areas of the squad room ceased immediately as all eyes turned to Leon Vance, whose mere presence commanded undivided attention.

"I know you've all been watching the news reports, as have I. I've just come from a briefing with Sec Nav, the Secretary of Defense, and the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. NCIS will be working in concert with various Navy and Marine units and the National Guard to assist with City and County rescue and relief efforts. We will provide the communications capabilities to coordinate those efforts. The Red Cross has asked for our help as well. They are sending a team to set up a mobile blood bank. I encourage everyone to donate. Communications may be down, but I urge you to call and check on your families. No one is to leave the building until the roads are cleared and it is deemed safe to travel. Until then, this agency still has work to do," Vance announced before descending the stairs.

He stepped into the bullpen as McGee tried to comfort and reason with a frantic Abby, who was hell bent on leaving to find Gibbs. Tugging on his arm in a vain attempt to drag him to the elevator, Abby plead desperately, "We have to go, McGee - now! Gibbs needs us! He could be hurt. You know he would do the same for us. And what about Tony? What if something happened to him? Please, McGee?"

"Agent McGee, sit rep. Any word yet from the rest of your team," Vance barked authoritatively, stopping Abby in her tracks. He gnawed impatiently on a toothpick as McGee peeled Abby off and stammered out what little he knew.

Fortunately, Ducky, the wise voice of reason, and Palmer had arrived to offer their assistance. "Come here, my dear," Ducky offered with open arms, which Abby was drawn to immediately. He took a linen handkerchief from his pocket and placed it gently in her shaky hand. "There, there now, Abigail. Dry your eyes. Jethro will be fine, you mark my words. Anthony will make sure of it."

Grateful to be relieved of the burden of an hysterical Abby, McGee turned to Vance and cleared his throat. "Um, all I know - Director - is that Tony, sorry Agent DiNozzo, is okay. He's, um, on his way to Gibbs' house. I'm, um, waiting for an update from Tony - Sir. Oh, and Ziva called. She's at home and okay."

As if on cue, McGee's cell phone rang. Vance raised a questioning eyebrow at the "James Bond" theme music ringtone.

"It's Tony," McGee announced. He stepped away and tried to listen to the crackling, static-filled voice. The others slowly gathered around and watched McGee's brow furrow as he tried to cypher the fragmented bits and pieces of information. There was a lengthy pause as McGee jotted down details of whatever information Tony was giving him. The waiting was interminable. "Okay. Hang on, Tony, I'm on my way. Tony? TONY?" he shouted, getting a series of beeps indicating the call had dropped.

"Director, I need to get to Gibbs' house - now," McGee declared. "Tony is with him, but they ...," he paused to swallow hard. "They're trapped in the basement. Gibbs' house - Tony's afraid it's about to collapse. Says it took a pretty direct hit. Gibbs is alive, but he's hurt - not sure how bad. From what I could make out, Gibbs has a broken leg and I think broken ribs. He is unconscious, but breathing okay. Pretty sure he has a concussion. Tony's hurt too, but not bad - or so he says. I don't think emergency crews are there yet. Tony just said they need our help."

Vance sprang into action, picking up the nearest phone and dialing a number by rote. While he waited for the call to connect, he barked, "Doctor Mallard, we're going to need all the first aid supplies you have. Most of the roads are impassable, so I'm going to see if we can't get air transport. Sec Nav owes me a favor. McGee, think you can handle leading a rescue mission?"

"Of course, Sir," McGee replied without hesitation. He didn't have a choice. His boss and his friend, hell, his family needed him. McGee knew that Vance would use his influence and make whatever deals were necessary to get help for his best agent and, despite all outward signs to the contrary, one of his most trusted friends.

"Mr. Secretary, Leon Vance. We have a situation here. Gonna need to call in that favor," Vance stated.

As he listened to their esteemed Director negotiate with Sec Nav, McGee dropped down into his chair and nervously gnawed on this thumbnail. "How the hell am I gonna get them out by myself. I can't. I can't do this alone," he thought, suddenly realizing the enormity of the situation.

As if Ducky had been reading his thoughts, he stepped forward and announced, "I shall go with you, Timothy. Jethro and Anthony are obviously in need of immediate medical attention. Let me go and gather my things."

"Um, with all due respect, Doctor Mallard, I should go. Tim is gonna need help getting Agent Gibbs out of the house - especially if Tony is hurt too."

McGee sat back and shook his head as the exchange played out before him. At times Ducky and Palmer bickered like an old married couple, but they always kept it respectful.

Palmer had been diplomatic in his delivery, but the message he conveyed was clear. Ducky, as determined and willing as he may be, was simply too old to be involved in such a physically demanding rescue mission. Palmer, on the other hand, was much younger, physically fit, and deceptively strong despite his slender build. He may not have Ducky's experience in a triage setting, but he was more than capable of administering any medical care that may be needed.

The squabble was short lived as Ducky relented gracefully. "Very well then, Mister Palmer. I shall leave Anthony and Jethro in your capable hands. Now, let us go and gather those supplies," Ducky suggested with a proud grin as he clapped a hand on Palmer's shoulder and steered him to the elevator.

Twenty minutes later, Ducky and Palmer returned with a backpack filled with adhesive bandages, Ace bandages for Gibbs' broken ribs, syringes, blood pressure cuff, stethoscope, several lengths of clear tubing, bags of IV fluids, and vials of injectable medications. It was hoped that nothing more than the bandages would be needed, but Ducky thought it best to be prepared for any contingency.

While McGee got his gear together, Abby helped get Palmer outfitted with an earwig and com. He had changed out of scrubs and into jeans and a long-sleeved t-shirt. His cross-trainer shoes weren't ideal footwear for a disaster area, but they would have to do. Abby handed him an official NCIS field jacket and cap to wear in case anyone decided to mistake him and McGee for looters.

"Okay," Vance announced when he appeared a few minutes later. "A Marine helo out of PAX River is on the way. They're ten minutes out. The Navy and Marines have been doing flyovers of the area to coordinate where assistance is needed. Best they can do is set down in the parking lot of the elementary school two blocks from Gibbs' place, just long enough to unload you and your gear. Whole damn town looks like a war zone, but you should be able to manage on foot. Be careful and good luck, gentlemen. Agent McGee, I expect you to report in when you get there - keep me apprised of the situation. We'll have the helo pick you up when they are available if we can't get an ambulance to you."

Abby hugged McGee and Palmer tightly before falling back into Ducky's grandfatherly embrace. She dabbed at her mascara-free eyes. "Go bring them home," she pled.

"Do be careful, my dear boys," Ducky admonished. "I want you all back here safe and sound."

Nodding solemnly in tandem, McGee and Palmer picked up their gear and headed for the waiting elevator. Somehow word of Gibbs' dire predicament had already made the rounds, as intra-office news often did, and wishes of good luck followed them.

Vance watched from the large squad room windows as McGee and Palmer climbed aboard the helicopter waiting for them in the VIP parking lot below. As the helicopter slowly rose and flew off into the night, he sent up a silent prayer for their safe return and for Gibbs and DiNozzo to make it out alive.

* * *

The rotor blades of the Bell UH-1N added to the gusty winds coming in from the northwest as the cold front that had triggered the storms moved through. McGee and Palmer crouched down and scurried to the open door where they were met by the Huey's crew chief, Lt. Col. Walker.

He helped secure their gear and fit them with headsets so that they could communicate with each other and with the pilots. Speaking over the loud "thwack thwack" of the rotor blades and roar of the two powerful Pratt & Whitney engines was out of the question. Once McGee and Palmer were buckled in and mic checks were completed, Lt. Col. Walker signaled for the pilots to take off.

"You boys okay," Lt. Col. Walker asked, noticing how his passengers both had a death grip on their jump seats.

"Yeah, fine," McGee replied, hoping he didn't sound as scared as he was. "Just worried. My boss and teammate are trapped. Gotta get 'em out."

Lt. Col. Walker nodded in understanding. He'd flown more sorties into hot zones to extract troops after missions and countless medevac runs to bring back dead and wounded soldiers after fire fights and IED explosions.

"Colonel," the co-pilot called out. "We got a location?"

While Palmer sat with his head between his knees to ward off air sickness, McGee used the locator app on his iPhone to get a GPS location for Gibbs' address. Looking out the window as the helicopter circled around to approach the planned landing site, McGee was struck by the miles of utter devastation as the powerful helo lights scanned the scene below.

"Dear God," escaped as a desperate, breathless whisper. There were no identifiable landmarks left standing and really no way to even be sure they were over Gibbs' neighborhood.

"Agent McGee! We need coordinates," Lt. Col. Walker declared.

McGee snapped out of his shock and fumbled with his phone. If the nearest cell tower was standing and if it was not over-taxed, he should be able to get a fix on Tony's phone.

"Come on, come on," McGee growled at the insolent device until it beeped, and a map appeared with the coordinates. He immediately relayed the information to the pilot and co-pilot. The hulking helicopter pitched violently and flew in a long, high-banked, sweeping arc around the target area.

"Oh my God," Palmer called out, holding onto to his seat for dear life. Lt. Col. Walker grinned at his terrified passenger. It wouldn't be the first time someone lost their lunch in front of him during a flight.

The co-pilot pointed out the school, which looked to have been for the most part spared, and confirmed it would be a suitable place to set down.

"Roger that," the pilot replied, hovering 20 feet above the shattered remains of a nondescript suburban house.


	7. Chapter 7

****

Having done all he could do for the time being, Tony was anxious to return and check on Gibbs. His battered and bruised body protested as he once again lowered himself through the window and made his way carefully to where he had left him.

The house seemed to have settled into some kind of precarious balance and things had remained much as he’d left them only a few minutes ago. As a bit of extra insurance, Tony took a moment and wrangled an errant piece of plywood into the space below the beam, propping it against the wall to create a snug enclosure that might offer some scant protection if things took a turn for the worse before help arrived.

Tony crouched down on his knees on the concrete and spent a few minutes watching the gentle rise and fall of Gibbs’ chest before he began to relax a bit. He was just as he had left him, pale head resting gently against the white of Tony’s balled-up t-shirt. Convinced that Gibbs was no worse off than he had been, Tony settled against the wall with a sigh, resting his head back and closing his eyes as he tried to will the adrenaline out of his system and slow his pounding heart.

Help was coming. _McGee_ was coming. He tried to let that thought sink in, but in this small corner, alone with Gibbs in the darkness, the world and the weight of his responsibility still hounded him oppressively.

Tony’s fingers snuck below Gibbs’ chin, grazed across his too-cold skin, lingered at the pulse of his throat. There was life flowing beneath his fingertips, strong and steady, and the gentle thrum of it beat a counterpoint to his own racing heart, finally succeeding in calming him just a little.  

“You can wake up any time now, Gibbs,” Tony murmured quietly as he gently lifted Jethro’s head and moved so that it rested against his thigh rather than the thin pillow of his t-shirt. He tried to convince himself that the move was solely for Gibbs’ comfort but the truth was, he found himself craving the close contact.

Tony’s eyes settled on Gibbs’ lips and his mouth flooded with the remembered taste of the other man’s skin. _Shit._ He’d actually done it. He’d kissed Gibbs. Tony wanted to convince himself that somehow it didn’t count because Jethro wasn’t aware of it, wouldn’t have the memory to carry around with him the way he did, but Tony knew it was a lame excuse. He had taken something he wanted, something he needed in that moment, and no amount of unconsciousness on Gibbs’ part was going to negate the heady experience of it. Or his shame.

The floor was cold beneath him, and Tony shivered even though it felt good against the heated pulse of pain in his lower leg. Wiggling his toes, he winced at the tight stab of discomfort, the wetness he was now sure he felt. Reaching into his pack, he brought out another bottle of water and sipped tentatively, realizing that the fatigue and vague nausea slowly creeping over him might not be the best sign. He really needed to stay awake.

Concerned that the cool concrete might be sapping vital warmth from Jethro’s already taxed body, Tony slowly and carefully propped Gibbs up so that he rested against his chest and his head lolled against Tony’s shoulder. He nearly laughed aloud at the thought of the strange picture the two of them made in their current positions.

Jethro stirred fitfully for a few seconds but showed no real signs of rousing. Supporting the back of the other man’s neck, Tony held the water bottle to his lips and poured a small mouthful in, waiting until Gibbs had swallowed reflexively before repeating the process. It was a little messy but he felt like he had to do _something_ more than just waiting. When Jethro had drunk nearly half the bottle, Tony finished it off and then ate part of a protein bar, already noticing that the sour feeling in his stomach was beginning to lessen.

A quick once-over of all Gibbs’ splints and bandages convinced Tony that he was as stable and as comfortable as he was going to get, and he settled back against the wall, trying to ignore just how good it felt to have Gibbs pressed this close to him. There was an undeniable comfort in the firm weight of Jethro’s body resting against his, in their warmth mingling through the layers of their clothing. Tony wished desperately that the circumstances were different, that there was any way on this earth Gibbs would surrender to his touch consciously, allow himself to be held in the circle of his arms of his own volition.

In order to distract himself, Tony switched on his Maglite again and began poking it into the corners of the room on either side of him, really looking at the jumbled mess now that he had time for a more thorough assessment.

There were recognizable parts of Gibbs’ life everywhere amongst the rubble. The shattered remains of the little black and white TV, whose staticy voice had kept them company over so many glasses of Bourbon, were visible beneath a pile of jagged floorboards. The tattered pages of a favored book from the shelves upstairs now collected dust in an empty space on the concrete. Each thing out of place, each telling its own tale of woe, adding its own weight to the heaviness that had begun to form in his heart when he’d first entered through the front door.

“You know, I think I might miss this place almost as much as you will, Boss.” Tony’s thumb stroked gently over the back of Gibbs’ uninjured hand.

He closed his eyes and filled his lungs with the familiar scent of the air around him, knowing this would be his last time in this space. After coughing a little at the dust, Tony allowed a slightly melancholy sigh to escape his throat at the thought. Despite the new scents of plaster, insulation, and blood, he still automatically keyed in to the subtly sweet smell of hardwood and sawdust. His brain filled in other details, and Tony swore he could almost feel the cloying burn of Bourbon sliding down his throat, the rich grain of wood beneath his hands.

“I liked us here, Gibbs,” Tony confessed to the unconscious man cradled against his chest.” I liked how I felt when I was here with you.” That annoying warmth and pressure was gathering behind his eyes again despite his best efforts. “All those times when it was just you and me? All the times when I…when I didn’t know what to do or who to be or how to feel, this stupid basement was always the place I wanted to be, sometimes without even knowing why. Just always felt safe somehow, you know?” His fingers moved unconsciously back to the surprising softness of Jethro’s hair. “You made me feel safe.” Now he felt wetness against his cheeks.

Chuckling quietly to himself, Tony swiped at his eyes and continued. “Kind of ironic that when I first met you I thought you might be some kind of closet sociopath, spending all your free time in your basement drinking alone and building boats. I mean, I never even saw you sail one of them.” He hesitated before continuing. “Think it took me two years to realize this was the one place in the world you didn’t feel alone, Gibbs.” Tony almost whispered this into the silence, perhaps unconsciously afraid of disturbing or offending the ghosts of all the memories that resided here.

Tony was tired. Bone tired. Talking had helped but his eyelids were growing heavier by the minute. He let his head fall back again, careful to still support Jethro’s body, and allowed his mind drift, silently sorting through a dozen years of memories and not even realizing when he crossed the line from waking dream to sleep.

The unmistakable sound of a helicopter hovering in a low pattern very close by jolted Tony awake. Acting on instinct, he curled protectively around Gibbs, afraid that the vibration from the chopper overhead would disturb the balance of the few tons of house waiting for the right opportunity to collapse onto their heads. Indeed, Tony heard several small avalanches in the superstructure above them and more dust and debris rained down into the lower level. Tony had chosen well, however, and their little shelter remained stable. It took a few minutes for things to settle down again and by the time Tony relaxed, the helo had moved on.

“That’s my Probie,” Tony muttered with a sleepy grin, absolutely certain that the low flying chopper seemingly circling Gibbs’ home could mean only one thing.

Feeling groggy and a little disoriented, Tony took a minute to reassess his surroundings. He was safe, he was warm, he was thirsty, he was tired beyond belief, his leg hurt, and Gibbs appeared to be sleeping soundly against his chest. All in all, things weren’t too bad if you ignored the fact that they were still undeniably trapped in the lowest level of a slowly crumbling building.

“Guess thinking I could run away from spending another Friday night in your basement kinda backfired on me, eh, Gibbs?” There was no answer to his question with the exception of a quiet moan from Gibbs at the slight jostling he received. The silence didn’t stop Tony from continuing. “You know, you didn’t have to go to all this trouble just to get me to change my mind, Gibbs. I would have come…eventually.” And he would have. He had been on the very edge of it sitting at his piano bench earlier, though the memory seemed weeks ago rather than hours.

“I know you would have.”

The soft and gravelly voice coming from the region of Tony’s shoulder made him stiffen and he had to fight every instinct not to immediately attempt to extricate himself from the position he had been enjoying far too much. Thankfully, the panic at the realization that Gibbs was awake was overwhelmed by the _relief_ that Gibbs was awake and Tony relaxed.

“Glad you could make it back, Boss,” Tony said gently. His fingers were frozen in Gibbs’ hair but he was afraid that moving them now would only draw more attention to the fact that he had been softly caressing the back of the other man’s head until a moment ago.

Gibbs grunted softly and shifted a little against Tony’s chest but made no further move to change positions. “How long was I out?”

“An hour, tops. Probably less. Kind of dozed off myself for a minute there,” Tony admitted.

“Water?” Gibbs asked, his voice sounding weaker than Tony liked. “My whole damn mouth tastes like plaster dust.”

“Right here.” Tony reached into his pack and brought out his last bottle, unscrewing the top before placing it in Jethro’s good hand.

“Sit rep?” Gibbs asked after a few sips, handing the bottle to Tony with the clear demand that they share it. “Did I just hear a helicopter up top?”

“I got a call out to McGee and unless I miss my guess, that was the cavalry approaching.” Tony grinned as he passed the bottle back once again.

Gibbs nodded. “That was good work. Knew McGee would get the job done.” Having apparently drunk his fill, he handed the water back to Tony who capped it and set it within easy reach, then relaxed back against Tony’s chest.

“You know, we can move if you want to, Gibbs,” Tony offered lamely, not quite sure how to deal with a conscious Jethro who wasn’t protesting something that felt uncomfortably close to cuddling. “See, the floor was really cold and I…”

“You comfortable?” Gibbs asked simply, cutting off any further attempt at explanation.

“Yeah. I am,” Tony admitted. “I just wasn’t sure you would be.”

“I can’t say this is the most comfortable I’ve been in my life, what with the cracked ribs and all, but I’m damn sure it beats lying on the cement. Why move?”

“Can’t think of a reason, Gibbs.” Not sure if the room spinning was due to blood loss, the feel of Jethro’s warm breath against his collar bone, or a combination of both, Tony hesitantly let his fingers resume their motion against Gibbs’ scalp.

“Why did you do it?” Jethro’s voice broke the few-moment’s silence.

“Why did I do what?” Tony was genuinely confused. He’d done about a million things tonight that probably deserved some sort of apologetic rationale but he wanted Gibbs to narrow it down first.

“Why did you tell me you weren’t coming tonight?” Gibbs’ voice had taken on that calm tone he often used in interrogation that said he secretly knew the answer to the question he was asking and was just waiting patiently for a confession.

Taking a deep breath, Tony set his jaw, realizing that this might just be the best opportunity he had for honesty. After all, Gibbs was probably too weak to kill him right now. “I was afraid,” he confessed.

“Afraid of me?” Jethro pressed, though it sounded more a statement than a question.

“Kind of.” Tony tried to think of the best way to put it that had the least likelihood of getting him fired or injured. “I think I was more afraid of me.” The words came more easily than he thought they would.

“There something I should know, Tony?” Jethro’s gaze was steady in the muted light.

“Probably more than you’re ready to hear, Gibbs.” His heart was suddenly beating a little faster.

“Try me.”

Lining up the words in his head, Tony let them march slowly over his tongue, trying to keep his voice steady. “I like spending time with you, Gibbs. More than I thought I would when we started hanging out more often. More than I…more than I think I should. Probably more than you want me to.” He looked down at Jethro, adamantly refusing to turn away from it this time.

“That so?” Gibbs didn’t blink.

Tony nodded. “I didn’t mean for it to happen. One night it was just beers and steaks and good friends and the next…I started liking it when you put your hands on me, _really_ liking it, if you get what I mean.” He felt the color rise in his cheeks a little.

“Think I do,” Gibbs said quietly.

Tony continued a little wistfully, glad for the acknowledgement but still unsure how to read Gibbs’ reaction. “It’s the little things that get me, like when you laugh next to my ear, or the way your hair’s all messy in the mornings when you fall asleep under the boat and I crash upstairs. Somewhere along the line I started wondering what it would feel like to do this. “ He moved his fingers pointedly through the softness of Gibbs’ hair. “Hell, I even like it when you snore on the couch during the game on Sundays. I like it too much. And now I don’t know how to fix it. I don’t know how to make it stop now that it’s there, Gibbs, but I’ll try. I promise I’ll try. I don’t want things to change but I…I was afraid you’d be able to see right through me if I came tonight-kind of stupid considering I’m spilling my guts all over your basement floor right now-and I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want to lose this.” He was out of words. The ones he had spoken hung in the air between them as palpably as the plaster dust and he waited for the inevitable.

Minutes seemed to tick by before Gibbs responded. “What if I don’t want you to stop?” he finally asked.

“What?” Tony was sure it must be the concussion talking. Either that or he was still dreaming.

“What if I think I might want things to change?” Gibbs seemed to be turning the thought over in his head.

“Are we talking about the same kind of change here, Gibbs? Because I…”

“I know what we’re talking about, Tony.” Jethro raised his hand and brushed his knuckles against Tony’s cheek, effectively muting the rest of his sentence.

The feel of Gibbs’ fingers sliding lingeringly down the side of his face made Tony shudder and he ignored the lights that were suddenly flashing behind his eyes. The rush of blood in his ears obliterated all sound for a moment and just as he was about to respond…

“ _Palmer, over here! Tony? Gibbs? We’re here! Talk to me!”_

McGee’s shouts finally filtered through his fog and Tony was filled with simultaneous floods of relief, regret, and the ever unlooked for, hope.

Rescue had arrived.

* * *

The pilots skillfully set the hulking helicopter down in the middle of the school's parking lot and cut back the power on the powerful engines.  Lt. Col. Walker opened the door and stepped out. 

"Good luck.  Hope your friends are safe.  May take us a while to get back here, but we'll stand by for your call," he yelled over the roaring helicopter engines after helping unload McGee, Palmer, and their gear. 

"Thanks," McGee shouted back, flashing a thumbs up as Walker scrambled back inside and slid the heavy door closed.  "C'mon Jimmy," he said, picking up their backpacks and leading a still queasy Palmer away from the dangerous rotor blades spinning overhead.

Armed only with flashlights, it was slow going as McGee took point and lead Palmer through a maze of uprooted trees, piles of personal belongings, furniture, portions of roofs, and cars that had been tossed like toys. 

McGee grew frustrated having to yell back at Palmer to keep up and to watch where he was going.  Wide-eyed and ambling mindlessly, Palmer seemed to be in a perpetual state of awe at the surreal landscape and stopped several times to examine a photograph or other memento he found along the way.

"Palmer," McGee barked, "We don't have time for this!  Tony and Gibbs are hurt, remember?  Now get up here, and for God's sake be careful." 

The rest of their trek was made in relative silence, except for the occasional "Oh my God," mumbled along the way.  Hazarding looks to his right, McGee could see that Palmer, well-known for possessing great compassion, was struggling to process the unbelievable scale of the tragedy surrounding them.  The images on TV did not do it justice.  Even from the air it hadn't seemed real, but now, standing among the remains of the quiet suburban neighborhood, it was too real.  The tornado that tore up both homes and lives had shown no mercy on anything that dared stand in its path. 

McGee wasn't faring much better than Palmer, but one thing stopped him in his tracks.  Standing at a crosswalk, he cocked his head and stared at the street sign across the street.  It was completely intact, except for the metal post being bent well past 90 degrees.  At the sight of "E. Laurel St." in white lettering on the standard green background, McGee didn't know whether to laugh or cry. 

Half a block down the street, McGee stopped again in front of an oddly familiar house.  The only confirmation that they had reached Gibbs' place was the black 505 near the front door. _‘DiNozzo must have been exaggerating’_ , McGee thought, because from where he stood the damage didn't look all that bad.  With his carpentry skills, McGee figured it might take Gibbs a couple of weeks, maybe a month, to repair the damage. 

Finding Palmer standing quietly beside him, gaping in disbelief, McGee pulled out his phone and hit the speed-dial number for Tony.  He waited as it rang twice then dropped.  Two more attempts yielded the same result. 

"Dammit," McGee shouted in frustration.  "No signal.  Guess it's not surprising though.  Come on, Palmer.  Tony said he went in through a basement window."

Guided only by the beams of their flashlights, McGee and Palmer navigated around to the back of the house.  Off to their right, about twenty five feet from the house, stood the detached two-stall garage, which to McGee's relief and surprise appeared to have been left relatively unscathed.  His jaw dropped seconds later, however, when he turned and saw that Gibbs' house had not fared nearly as well.  In fact, he was stunned that it was still standing.

"Dear God," McGee exclaimed, barely above a mournful whisper.  He could hear creaking and groaning as what remained of the former two-story house settled.  Sweeping the beam of his flashlight over the structure, it looked nearly sheared in half.  Most, if not all, of the roof was missing, random sections of the wood siding had been torn off, and all of the windows had been blown out or shattered as the house collapsed in on itself. 

"Jesus Palmer, we better hurry," McGee declared.  "Tony?  DiNozzo?  Boss?  Can you hear me?  It's McGee.  Palmer's with me.  Are you guys okay?"  He quickly went from window to window, crouching down and shining his flashlight inside in a valiant attempt to locate Tony and Gibbs.  Seeing nothing but shattered debris everywhere the beam of light fell, McGee started to lose hope.

"Oh thank God!" McGee muttered in relief when he reached the last window.  Tony and Gibbs were huddled together in a makeshift shelter beneath the stairs, or more accurately what remained of the stairs.  The indirect light from a flashlight lying on the ground cast a muted glow around them. Peering in more closely, McGee stared in curious wonder at the tableau before him.   

He should have been shocked seeing Tony leaning back against the wall holding Gibbs protectively against his chest, but he honestly wasn't.  In fact, the sight of Gibbs' bandaged head resting on Tony's shoulder seemed oddly normal.  Tony was gently running his fingers through Gibbs' hair and talking to him, though McGee couldn't hear what was being said.  From his vantage point, he couldn't discern whether or not Gibbs was even conscious.  It wasn't until he saw Gibbs bring a shaky hand up to stroke Tony's cheek that he knew - he knew it all.

Abby, the hopeless romantic, had been trying to convince him for years that Gibbs and Tony had deep, romantic feelings for each other, but both were too stubborn or too stupid to admit it.  McGee always snorted at the idea as being ridiculous, but now he had to admit - they sure didn't look like just boss and subordinate.  He didn't know what to think, but despite the circumstances he felt like a voyeur observing a very intimate moment. 

"Focus," he scolded himself, remembering the dire situation they were in.  Now was definitely _not_ the time to let some fairy tale notion of something hinky going on between Tony and Gibbs cloud this thoughts. 

"Palmer, over here!  Tony?  Gibbs?  We're here.  Talk to me," McGee shouted into the darkness of the basement before shining his light in the window.

"McGee!  Gremlin!  Thank God!  Get your asses in here.  Jethro - Gibbs - needs help," Tony demanded.  "But be careful!  I cleared a little path, but there's still a lot of bare wires and shit everywhere."

"Hang on," McGee yelled back.  "Palmer, you go in first and I'll hand this stuff to you," McGee suggested, dropping both of their backpacks on the ground next to the window. 

Once Palmer was safely inside, McGee shoved their backpacks through the window and followed suit.  With four flashlights shining brightly, they made their way across the room without incident.

McGee stood by while Palmer and Tony got Gibbs moved out into the open.  Tony was nervously mumbling something about the floor being cold and wet and he was worried about Gibbs going into shock.  Palmer responded to Tony's concerns by taking off his jacket and laying it on the floor.  That simple, almost chivalrous act seemed to appease Tony, who was able to shimmy his way out from behind Gibbs and help lay him out on the floor so that Palmer would have room to work treating his wounds. 

"Help me up, McGee," Tony requested, holding his arms out.  McGee obliged and helped Tony to his feet, then instantly found himself pulled into a rib-crushing hug.  "God, I'm glad you're here, Probie," Tony said around a heartbreaking sob.

"Hey, hey, it's gonna be okay, Tony.  We'll get Gibbs patched up and get you guys out of here," McGee announced once he was released.  Stepping back to look his partner over, he didn't think too much about Tony's shredded pant leg at first, but upon closer inspection he noticed the blood-soaked bandages.

"Jesus, Tony!  Are you okay?  Your leg - what happened?" McGee demanded.  He picked up a toppled old wooden chair and motioned for Tony to sit.

Tony rolled his eyes but complied.  "M'fine, McGee.  Just a scratch; it's nothing to freak out about.  Probably just need a couple of stitches – but we get the hell out of here first," Tony grumbled, crossing his arms petulantly as if challenging McGee to push him on the issue.

Getting the expected "I'm fine" answer from Tony, McGee narrowed his eyes but backed off.  Now was not the time to argue.  He knew that Tony hated hospitals and doctors as much as Gibbs did, so he made a mental note to make sure Tony got checked out when they reached Bethesda. 

Scanning the room with this flashlight, it became abundantly clear that the window was the only means of ingress and egress.  Even if the stairs had been intact, too much heavy debris blocked their path.

"Okay fine.  Well, the stairs are definitely out.  You think we can carry Gibbs, lift him up, and pull him out that window," McGee asked.

"I don't see any other way," Tony said tiredly with a shrug.

"Uh guys," Palmer interrupted.  "With Agent Gibbs' broken ribs, that's a _really_ bad idea.  I don't want to risk puncturing a lung.  Dammit Tim, we should have brought a backboard!"   

Tony snapped his fingers as a light bulb seemed to come on over his head.  He stood and grabbed McGee by the shoulders.

"Plywood, McGee!  There's a bunch in the corner over there.  We can make a stretcher, but we gotta work fast.  Come on, we need to find rope or duct tape or something." 

McGee looked at Tony then at the window.  Plywood came in nominal 4 x 8 foot sheets; too wide to get through a barely three-foot wide window.  McGee shouldered past Tony and found various lengths and widths of wood leaning against the wall beside the workbench.  Looking up at the peg board, he saw a large coil of white maritime rope hanging on a hook.  He grabbed it and threw it to Tony.

He filed through the supply of plywood until he found a piece that might serve their purpose.  His eyeball estimate was a piece of pine measuring six-feet long and two-feet wide.  Being only one-half inch thick, it was perfect!  He dragged it out and carried it over to where Gibbs, now shirtless, sat getting his ribs tightly wrapped. 

McGee's jaw dropped seeing the dark purple hue of Gibbs' bare chest.  His eyes then fell to his heavily bandaged arm and splinted leg.  "Boss!  You okay?  I'm so sorry about, you know …."  He shrugged waving a hand at nothing in particular.

Gibbs winced as Palmer pulled the Ace bandage impossibly tight.  His voice hitched as he replied, "Yeah, I know, McGee.  Now, you got a plan for getting us out of here?" 

"Uh, I think so," McGee said with a nod.  He told Gibbs of their hastily devised plan to make a stretcher and carry him out.  McGee saw Gibbs' jaw twitch and knew that the rugged Marine hated the idea of playing the role of damsel in distress.  He could tell that Gibbs wanted to protest that he would walk out under his own power, but faced with the reality of the situation, the strongest, toughest, bravest man McGee had ever met in his entire life relented and put his life and trust in his hands.  McGee felt profoundly honored.

Tim jumped when a grinning Tony hobbled up to him with a fistful of lengths of rope he had cut from the large coil.  In his so familiar 'DiNozzo' way of finding humor in damn near any situation, Tony didn't disappoint.

"Hey, Boss, looks like I get to tie you up," Tony announced with his voice pitched low, throwing in waggling eyebrows for effect.  It worked.  McGee and Palmer blushed and looked away, while Gibbs snorted, grinned, and shook his head. 

"Hey, McGee, toss me that t-shirt," Gibbs requested, pointing at the dwindling pile nearby, while Palmer worked on examining and rewrapping his wounded leg.  After thoroughly palpating the bone and surrounding muscle, Palmer decided that any fracture was likely minor, and since Gibbs would not be attempting to walk he declared the bulky split unnecessary.

"This one," McGee asked, holding up a black Brooks & Dunn t-shirt. 

"Yeah, thanks," Gibbs replied without making eye contact with Tony, who McGee noticed was looking down at Gibbs curiously.  Snatching it out of McGee's hand, he ordered, "DiNozzo, a little help here!" 

"Right, Boss.  Sorry, Boss," Tony replied automatically before scampering as fast as his leg would allow.

McGee watched as Tony, with an abundance of care, helped dress their boss, pulling the shirt down over the thick cloth bandages.  If any looks of longing and affection passed between Tony and Gibbs in the process, nothing was said, but at one point Palmer politely excused himself.  McGee wondered if Tony whispering a bit too loud that he would have been happy to cut Gibbs' shirt off for him might have had something to do with it. 

The intimacy on display earlier was apparently back as Tony leaned in and locked eyes with Gibbs.  Though barely above a whisper, McGee thought he heard Tony mutter, "By the way, you still owe me the story behind this shirt."  Whatever Tony said, Gibbs rolled his eyes in response.

The oddly tender moment was broken when the house shifted and dust rained down. 

"Shit!  We better get moving," McGee exclaimed, before once again taking charge.  "Tony, can you and Palmer get Gibbs ready?  I gotta check in with Vance and get the helicopter back here."

"We got this, Tim," Palmer assured as he placed the board down on the floor over the pre-cut lengths of rope Tony had laid out.  "By the way, great job with these bandages, Tony."

McGee made his way back over to the window and pulled out the satellite phone Vance had given him.  It was tied into MTAC and would be much more reliable than cell service.  He dialed the MTAC extension and waited.  Leaning against the wall, he watched and listened as Palmer and Tony worked together, rolling up several old towels to make Gibbs more comfortable as they secured him to the board.

"Uh, Agent Gibbs?  Would you like me to give you something for the pain," Palmer asked as he placed a neatly folded towel under Gibbs' head. 

When it looked like Gibbs was about to protest, Tony chimed in and said, "Je - Gibbs, take the damn meds!  It's gonna hurt like hell when we shove you through the window."  McGee observed the two stubborn men locked in a stare down and he wondered who would blink first.

"Give it to him, Palmer," Tony grumbled as he pulled the rope securing Gibbs' thighs tighter than was probably necessary. 

"Dammit, DiNozzo!"

"Oops!  Sorry, Boss," Tony mumbled semi-apologetically, smirking when he saw Gibbs' almost imperceptible nod to Palmer out of the corner of his eye. 

McGee was so transfixed by the odd scene playing out between Tony, Gibbs, and Palmer that hejumped when an MTAC tech finally answered.  "This is Agent McGee.  Put me through to the Director," McGee ordered.  He paced nervously for several moments before Vance got on the line.  "Director, Sir, we're on our way out of the house.  We need the helo back here ASAP.  Gibbs is awake and alert, but there is no way he can walk, and from what I saw when we got here, there's no way an ambulance can make it down these streets.  Yes, Sir.  Lt. Col. Walker said they would stand by for your call.  We will, Sir.  Thank you, Sir."

Shoving the sat phone back in his pack, McGee joined the others and packed up their gear. 

"We've probably got thirty minutes, max.  Vance is going to call back with confirmation.  Tony, we're gonna have to carry Gibbs two blocks down to the school.  It's the closest place a helo can land.  If you can carry the packs, Palmer and I can carry Gibbs."

Tony climbed out first, but not before McGee saw him turn back and take a last, sad parting look at the basement that had been almost a second home to him.  After handing their gear up to Tony, McGee joined Palmer.

"Okay, we'll go feet first.  I'm gonna raise up my end so I can get under it and get leverage, then we should be able to lift Gibbs high enough to reach the window ledge."

McGee expected Gibbs to be much heavier, and was surprised by how easily he and Palmer were able to lift and move him.  Keeping their movements as deliberate and smooth as possible to avoid jarring Gibbs too much, they reached the moment of truth – would they be able to get him through the window?  McGee again took charge.

"DiNozzo!  Will you be able to grab the board and help pull Gibbs through?  We'll push," McGee shouted, not sure exactly how far Tony had gone from the window after climbing out.

"Jesus, I'm right here, McShouty!  Yeah, just raise it up as high as you can and I'll pull from this end.  Just get him up here, will you?" Tony demanded.

Gibbs gripped the edges of the plywood to help keep still and closed his eyes.  Whatever Palmer had injected him with was starting to kick in.  The sensation of floating took over, and Gibbs was taken back to his earlier dream of him and Tony sailing.  It crowded out the despair that had threatened to flood in at the thought of what he was leaving behind as he was carried to safety.  He feared that the memories, both good and bad, would crumble to dust like the house itself.  The idea of losing them brought an ache to his heart and tears to his eyes.

The feel of long, wet blades of grass tickling his arm brought Gibbs around as he was gently lowered to the ground.  He sighed when his eyes opened to a clear, pitch black sky and billions of stars twinkling above him.  He heard nothing but the team's heavy breathing mixed with a chorus of chainsaws coming from every direction. 

As he lay in his storm-ravaged back yard, Gibbs could barely make out how much of his house was still standing.  He wanted and needed to know the extent of the damage, but a strong, warm hand atop his got his attention.  Turning his head, he saw Tony kneeling by his side, smiling sadly with tears pooling in his eyes. 

"We made it, Jethro," Tony said softly as his tears fell and landed on their now joined hands.

Feeling a bit overwhelmed by Tony's display of emotion, Gibbs simply nodded and squeezed his hand.  It wasn't the most romantic setting in the world, but even in the light of a battery-powered flashlight instead of candles Tony's toothy smile and shining eyes spoke volumes.

Gibbs was reminded that they weren't alone a few minutes later when Palmer approached and cleared his throat.  Tony went to pull his hand away, but Gibbs responded by squeezing it tighter. 

"Gibbs," Tony asked nervously.

"It's okay, Tony.  Don't worry," Palmer whispered conspiratorially, grinning at the pair.  "I mean if you and, Agent Gibbs, you know …." 

Much to Gibbs' relief, and probably Tony's as well, before Palmer could expound on his thoughts the satellite phone chirped to life.  McGee quickly dug it out of his backpack and flipped up the antennae. 

"This is Agent McGee.  Yes, Sir.  We have two wounded, one on a backboard, one ambulatory.  I don't know, Colonel.  We'll sure as hell try our best.  Roger that, Sir.  We're leaving now."

Shoving the sat phone back in his bag, McGee barked, "Okay.  Tony, just carry what you can.  C'mon Palmer.  The helo is five minutes out.  They have two other casualties onboard, so we gotta move - NOW!"

Gibbs felt a surge of pride seeing McGee take charge and showcase his ability to lead under such extreme circumstances.  He could have played the "Boss" card and started barking orders at any time, but his gut told him to give McGee the chance to prove himself.  It was paying off in spades.

The darkness of the back yard was replaced by blinding light in the front yard.  A team of emergency workers was in the process of setting up stands of generator-powered halogen lights at regular intervals up and down the street.  Not needing to rely solely on the small but intense beams from their flashlights, they were able to move much faster with dozens of bright lights illuminating their way.

Gibbs laid back and hung on for the two block ride, with Tony at his side.  Gibbs smiled.

The sound of the approaching helicopter got louder with each step.  Less than a block away from the school, Gibbs lifted his head and watched as two people in military gear ran toward them.

Squinting, Gibbs read the names 'Walker' and 'Myers' on the front of their flight suits.  The one named 'Walker' patted McGee on the back.

"Agent McGee, glad to see you got everyone out.  Thought you might need a hand.  You carry your gear and we'll take over from here," Walker said as he took McGee's place and the co-pilot took Palmer's. 

"Special Agent Gibbs, I'm Lt. Col. Walker, USMC.  This is Lt. Myers, one of my best pilots.  Heard you need some help, Gunny.  Always happy to help out a fellow Marine.  Now, how about we give you a lift to Bethesda?" 

Gibbs snorted then looked to his right and watched as McGee and Palmer relieved Tony of their backpacks.  He smiled when, without any debate or discussion, they each got under an arm to support Tony and take as much weight off of his injured leg as possible. 

"We got 'ya, Tony.  Come on, let's get the hell out of here," McGee said tiredly. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that some of this seems non-sequential. In order to offer 2 distinct POV's there is some overlap in the story in places but We hope you find that it provides a richer perspective on the tale overall.

****

No longer alone and unable to communicate verbally due to the roar of the powerful engines, Gibbs settled for communicating with his eyes. He tried to ignore Tony's stare, but after a particularly jarring pocket of turbulence he could not ignore the look of concern. Along with the concern, Gibbs found questions and fear swirling in Tony's eyes. Gibbs tried to answer the questions and allay the fear by staring back.

Tony looked on the verge of exhaustion. His normally bright and clear expressive eyes were glazed. Maybe it was the lighting inside of the olive drab helicopter, but Tony's complexion had taken on a grayish pallor. Gibbs knew that asking Tony if he was all right would get an automatic, "I'm fine," so he didn't bother. It would be a lie. It didn't help that they couldn't have any kind of meaningful conversation with the roar of the powerful engines, not to mention McGee yelling into a headset giving Vance, and likely Abby and Ducky, and update on rescue and his condition. If nothing else, Gibbs would put McGee and Palmer in charge of making sure Tony got medical treatment.

Feeling the blood pressure cuff tighten around his right arm, Gibbs turned his head and watched as Palmer placed the stethoscope on the bend in this arm and watched the gauge intently as he dialed back the pressure. Palmer, unassuming as always, checked his pulse and placed a thermometer under his tongue, which seemed odd, all things considered. Gone was the stammering, stumbling young med student who shrank away from him on most occasions. There was no hesitation, no asking for permission, just Palmer channeling Ducky's business-like demeanor, thankfully without a long, rambling narrative, tending to him like an experienced medic.

Shifting his attention to McGee on the jump-seat behind the co-pilot, Gibbs wondered how he had ended up in the role as leader on such a dangerous rescue mission. He felt a momentary tinge of shame thinking that Ziva would have been more suited for the job, but leave it to McGee to once again prove him wrong. If Tony was Gibbs' loyal St. Bernard, McGee was a little Beagle puppy vying for attention and praise, and always eager to please his master.

McGee handed off the headset to Palmer and exchanged places, shouting something about patching him into the ER at the hospital. Gibbs turned his attention back to Tony while Palmer reported his vitals to the hospital as they prepared to land.

Nothing changed when the helicopter set down in the designated landing zone that had been cleared of cars and cordoned off in the parking lot of Bethesda. Being much larger than the Life Flight chopper that provided service to the hospital, the pilots didn't even attempt to land on the helo pad located on the roof.

Quickly but carefully transferred and strapped down to a proper gurney, Gibbs was rushed into the Trauma Center by two Navy Corpsmen. Tony, with Palmer's support, hobbled along next to him as fast as he could, keeping one hand on the side rail and the other clamped on Gibbs' uninjured forearm.

"Palmer, get someone to look at Tony's leg," Gibbs ordered.

Everything was a blur of florescent lights as Gibbs was quickly wheeled down the hall before suddenly being turned and steered into an available exam area. He felt the loss of warmth on his arm as Tony was ordered to wait outside. Gibbs could hear Tony's protests, but the medical staff cited policy and told him that someone would be out to talk to him as soon as they had something to report.

Even with the flurry of activity as doctors and nurses scurried to triage patients flooding in, Gibbs could hear that McGee and Palmer were trying unsuccessfully to get Tony to let a nurse look at his leg. He may as well have been in the bullpen during a team sibling-like squabble instead of surrounded by medical equipment. Unable to mete out a head slap to get Tony back in line, he got in "Boss" mode from behind the curtain.

"DiNozzo! Stop being a God damned mother hen and sit your ass down somewhere before you fall down! I'm not dying," Gibbs grumbled as he slowly tried to sit up.

A trauma nurse, with a name badge that read "Eleanor", momentarily halted her attempt to force him to lie back down when she caught the business end of a warning glare. She pursed her lips and glared right back. Her flame red hair was pulled up in a severe bun, and she packed the characteristic short temper that Gibbs knew from experience redheads possessed.

"Don't even try that with me," she retorted with her hands planted firmly on her ample hips. "I've been dealing with tough guys like you for over twenty years, so let me tell you something. In this room, I'M the boss! Now, are you gonna behave and cooperate, or do we do this the hard way?"

Initially taken aback by her less than charming bedside manner, Gibbs had to hand it to her - Nurse Eleanor meant business. Her tone and perturbed look made it clear that she was truly in charge. Too tired and in too much pain to effectively challenge her, Gibbs settled back against the pillows.

"That's more like it," Eleanor said, favoring him with a warm smile. "Now, let's get you into a gown, Mr. Gibbs."

"Just Gibbs," Gibbs croaked out.

 _"She talks almost as much as DiNozzo,"_  Gibbs thought as Eleanor kept him preoccupied while she carefully stripped him down to his boxer shorts and got him into a gown. After taking his vitals and noting them in his chart, she bagged up his boots and clothes, making sure that any valuables were removed from the pockets.

"Who should I give these to?" Eleanor asked, brandishing Gibbs' wallet, field knife, watch and cell phone.

"Tony, uh, Agent DiNozzo. He's right outside," Gibbs replied.

Eleanor handed the items to the orderly assisting her. "You heard the man," she barked, before turning her attention back to Gibbs. "I can tell by the haircut you're a Marine, so I'm sure you won't mind me sticking you with a little bitty needle," she challenged teasingly.

Before Gibbs could respond, he felt a cold swab on the back of his right hand followed by a sharp stick. He didn't even have time to flinch before the needle port and tubing attached to it were taped down and Eleanor was adjusting the drip of his IV.

She whistled at the deep purple bruising after cutting away the Ace bandages tightly binding his rib cage. Once heart monitor leads were stuck to Gibbs' chest, Eleanor set to work tending to his more minor cuts and scrapes, beginning with the slight gash at his temple.

"Now, let's see what we've got here," she said with a smile as she began carefully unwrapping Gibbs' bandages. His left arm was blood-covered mess, but after gently washing away the dried blood with saline solution she could see that the underlying series of cuts, weren't dangerously deep. The profuse bleeding had kept the wounds clean, so after flushing them thoroughly with additional saline she covered the cuts with fresh gauze.

Suddenly, with a flourish, the curtain was thrown back and a young, dark-haired doctor appeared. Gibbs thought he looked young enough to be a first year med student. Eleanor must have sensed his apprehension, because she chuckled before introducing the doctor.

"Ah, here he is. Gibbs, this is Doctor Miller. He'll be your attending. Don't you worry. He may be young, but you're in good hands."

Gibbs lay back while the ridiculously young doctor and Eleanor went over his chart and discussed her initial assessment of his condition. He wondered who had provided the intake information, but suspected it was likely a group effort. His health care power of attorney was part of his permanent medical record, along with his insurance information and next-of-kin. Gibbs had named Ducky as his primary attorney-in-fact with Tony as the alternate, but he couldn't remember if he ever mentioned it to Tony.

Several minutes passed as the good doctor poked and prodded him, paying extra attention to Gibbs' leg, while Eleanor jotted down notes and orders for meds and procedures. Gibbs tuned out the medical speak and let his thoughts turn to Tony.

Barely two hours had passed since he woke up wrapped in the warmth and security of Tony's arms. The more he relaxed, the more Tony's words played over in his mind. Had it been any other Friday night, Gibbs seriously doubted that Tony would have confessed having feelings for him. He couldn't help but wonder if Tony really meant what he said, or if it was just a cliché response to the stress of the situation they were in. Gibbs hated the idea that it was just Tony's version of the "you're gonna be fine" battlefield speech given to gravely wounded soldiers.

Tony's words, "I don't want to lose this," struck a chord. Conversations over cowboy-style steaks, movies watched over Chinese take-out or pizza, splitting a six-pack and watching ball games on TV, and just spending time with Tony with no pre-planned agenda meant more to Gibbs than he would normally admit. Tony canceling on him made him realize just how much he feared losing what they did have, whatever that actually was. Trust, friendship, respect, and affection were there in abundance and had been for nearly a decade. When Gibbs' feelings began to transcend those into the realm of something deeper, something more profound, he couldn't say, nor could he define it other than to admit that it felt right on every level.

"Whoever dressed your wounds did a hell of a job, Agent Gibbs," Doctor Miller announced, breaking Gibbs from his thoughts. "I'm going to have Eleanor finish cleaning you up and put a few stitches in your arm, then we'll get some x-rays. I understand you lost consciousness earlier and had some nausea, so we should get you upstairs for a CT scan rule out anything more serious than a concussion. I'll go get that set up." He patted Gibbs' arm, flashed a confident smile, then left the room.

Gibbs watched as Eleanor cleaned, bandaged and splinted his left wrist with a black, velcro fastened brace. There was plenty of bruising, swelling and pain, but he had full range of motion and feeling and dexterity in all of his fingers, so a fracture was ruled out.

Hissing involuntarily as Eleanor manipulated his injured lower leg to get a better look at the wound and to test the soundness of the bone, Gibbs slammed his eyes shut. He had been shot and stabbed often enough, but nothing compared to the pain he felt now. The earlier throbbing was back with a vengeance and it felt like a red-hot poker had been inserted right into the bone.

"I'm sorry about that, Hon. How about a little morphine, just to take the edge off the pain? No need to be a big tough Marine with me. You tell me if the pain gets to be too much, you hear me?" Eleanor said, smiling when she received an affirmative nod.

Just as Eleanor was finishing up cleaning and inspecting the large jagged gash in his leg, Gibbs heard Doctor Miller's voice and his eyes fell on the portable x-ray being wheeled in behind him. Films were taken of his chest and leg to determine the severity of the damage.

"Okay. We're all set upstairs. Shouldn't take more than an hour. Your wrist is only sprained, but I want to go over the x-rays of your leg with an orthopedic specialist before stitching you up. Then we'll get you admitted so you can rest," Doctor Miller said.

Tired. He was so tired. Gibbs fought against the pull of sleep. It was obvious that his injuries were not life threatening, but even as banged up as he was, Gibbs couldn't - wouldn't - rest until he knew that Tony was okay. The mix of exhaustion and the morphine Eleanor had injected into his IV were working against him. As a team came in and prepared to move Gibbs upstairs, he grabbed Eleanor's hand as tightly as he could.

"DiNoz - Tony - he's hurt. Can you look at him - please," Gibbs slurred as his eyes fluttered shut.

He didn't feel the return squeeze of his hand or Eleanor's softly spoken, "Don't you worry. I'll take good care of him."

* * *

Gibbs didn't need to be reminded where he was when he was roused from his drug-induced sleep. He recognized Eleanor, who stood at his bedside looking rather fondly down on him.

"There's those pretty blue eyes," she said. "Gibbs, this is Eric, your night nurse. He's going to be taking care of you. You think you can answer a couple of questions for me?"

Gibbs nodded. Those familiar words meant concussion check. Lord knows he'd been on the asking side of this song and dance with DiNozzo enough times to know the drill.

"We'll start with an easy one. What's your name?"

"Gibbs."

"Where do you work?"

"NCIS."

"Who is the President?"

"President Obama. Did you look at Tony? How is he? Where is he?"

Eleanor smiled while Eric stood by looking perplexed. She pointed to the sleeping form in the other bed.

"Your Agent DiNozzo over there. He's a stubborn one! Passed out before I got a chance to look at him. He lost quite a bit of blood, but we got two units in him. Doctor Miller's team stitched him up, and he's gonna be just fine. He sure raised hell when he came around until I promised to let him see you. Figured I'd save us all the trouble and just asked them to put him in here with you," she said with a laugh.

"Thanks," Gibbs replied with a contented sigh, his eyes never leaving the sleeping form snoring softly less than ten feet away.

Eleanor and Eric made short work of checking Gibbs' vitals while he was awake. Satisfied that Gibbs hadn't developed a fever, Eric chimed in and asked for his pain level.

"Hmmm...about a five. Not bad," Gibbs replied.

"I'm sure you're familiar with this," Eric asked, holding up the red-buttoned controller to the self-dispensing morphine machine. "Use it if you need it, and here's the call button if you need anything else. I'll be back in a couple of hours to check on you again."

Gibbs nodded absently in reply while he watched Eleanor check to make sure that Tony was resting comfortably.

"You take care, Gibbs, and take care of that one, too," Eleanor said with a wink as she followed Eric out the door.

* * *

Tony let the pulsing vibration of the helicopter dull and eventually numb his overtaxed senses. Eyes glued to Gibbs where he lay strapped down, he caught each well-concealed wince of pain as they banked and bounced through air pockets along their flight path. It wasn't long before Gibbs caught him staring, locked eyes with him in the tight and crowded space of the cabin and gave a feeble half-smile that was more worrisome than reassuring to Tony. He wanted to touch, to feel the warmth of rough skin and a fluttering pulse beat beneath his fingers again. Instead, he had to be content with the fact that Gibbs' gaze fixed to him and didn't let go, didn't flinch in avoidance the way Tony'd half expected now that it was more than just the two of them.

Finally, after a seeming eternity that really wasn't more than 20 minutes, they were being waved in for landing at Bethesda. GW was closer to the scene but the first rate hospital had taken the main flood of trauma cases and was now completely overwhelmed. Several other medical facilities in the area were running on generator power only and closed to trauma. Due to the nature of the emergency, they had been given clearance to drop all of their cargo at the military hospital which was opening its doors to absorb some of the civilian casualties despite typical protocols.

Their pilot was a pro and their touchdown feather-light. It was only the subtle change in vibration and the tone of the rotors which told Tony they were well and truly on the ground. Almost immediately, the doors were thrown open, and the helo was surrounded by medical personnel. Walker and his crew still had more runs to make so Gibbs was quickly and efficiently transferred onto a rolling gurney and the other victims unloaded before they were hustled as a group into the bright lights of the landing field.

Gripping tight to the rail of the rolling bed, Tony refused assistance and limped the seemingly endless distance through the night air toward the towering institution with McGee and Palmer trailing close behind.

"Tony, they've got him. You need to let someone look at your leg now," McGee urged as soon as they were inside the sliding glass doors.

"Later," Tony waved him off, unable to focus on anything but Gibbs. He refused to allow himself to be separated from the other man now and continued to hobble his way down the corridor until it opened up into a triage area where Gibbs was wheeled into a curtained off cubicle.

"I'm sorry. Everyone will have to wait here until we finish assessing his injuries. Is there anyone else in the party in need of medical attention?" A young orderly halted Tony, McGee, and Palmer as a curtain was pulled definitively closed around Gibbs.

"Yes. He's…" Palmer gestured toward Tony.

"Fine," Tony interrupted with a glare. "I'm fine Palmer. I'll wait."

The orderly looked between the three men, trying to determine who to take his marching orders from. "There's a small waiting area just down the hall to your left. Someone will come and get you as soon as we can get him evaluated."

"I'm not leaving him. Not now." Tony wanted desperately to sit somewhere, but he was determined. He looked imploringly from McGee to Palmer, silently begging them to understand, to help him.

"He'll be fine, Tony. I'm sure they'll come and get us right away if there's anything more serious going on," McGee said gently, reaching a hand out to the other man whose muscles bunched beneath his light touch.

Tim's hand resting on his shoulder made Tony twitch and he realized just how keyed up he still was. "You don't know what I went through to get to him, McGee. You don't know what it was like."

"You're right, I don't. But I know that you got through, Tony. I know that you probably saved his life tonight. And he knows it too. There's nothing more you can do for him right now except take care of yourself," Tim urged beseechingly.

"DiNozzo! Stop being a God damned mother hen and sit your ass down somewhere before you fall down," Gibbs' disembodied voice barked from behind the curtain. "I'm not dying."

A sheepish grin spread across Tony's face for a moment before it hardened again. "I'll be right here, like 10 feet away, Gibbs. Don't let them take you away before I…before I get a chance to see you, okay?" He looked at Palmer and McGee from beneath long lashes and willed the heat from his cheeks.

"Sit." Gibbs' voice came to him again but it seemed to have lost a bit of its edge.

"Going, Boss," Tony agreed grudgingly, allowing Palmer to lead him to a small enclosure with a couple of vinyl couches. There was also a glass covered end table, a lamp which served to somewhat soften the harsh glare from the overhead fluorescents, and a phone which was obviously for the use of visitors.

"I'm going to go check in with Vance and let Abby and Ducky know you guys are safe. Director told them they had to stay put and I'm sure they're both climbing the walls by now."

McGee headed back into the main corridor and looked right and left, clearly checking for a good place to make his call that was a bit quieter than their present location where traffic bustled by in a continuous stream.

"And I'm going to see if I can slip into a supply closet and get some gauze and a suture kit so I can take a look at your leg. I may not have Dr. Mallard's connections but I can blend in like nobody's business." Palmer grinned before looking sternly at Tony. "You're staying put, right?"

"As long as Gibbs is here, I'm here," Tony affirmed with a tight nod. He lifted his leg up onto the table, wincing at the tight pain in his calf at the movement. "See if you can find me some Advil while you're at it will ya? And maybe some water?" His head was beginning to pound in rhythm with his pulse and his mouth felt dry as a bone.

"I'll do what I can," Palmer promised.

Once McGee and Palmer were gone, Tony relaxed back onto the couch. Now that the adrenaline rush of the last few hours was truly wearing off, he was beginning to realize there wasn't a single part of him that wasn't sore. Overtaxed muscles in his neck, arms, and shoulders had taken on that dull, burning, rubbery sensation that told him he was barely going to be able to move in the morning. His thighs were already screaming in protest at the workout he had put himself through and the pain eating away at his lower leg was becoming more uncomfortable by the minute.

"Agent DiNozzo?"

Tony didn't realize he'd allowed his eyes to drift closed until a hesitant voice said his name. Opening them, he forced himself upright and found the orderly who had blocked him from going with Gibbs a few minutes ago. "Yeah?" He blinked at the suddenly bright-seeming lights.

"Agent Gibbs asked that you hold these for him." He hastily produced Jethro's worn leather wallet and field knife along with his watch and cell.

Reaching for the proffered items hesitantly, Tony clutched them in his hand and tucked them into his lap. "Is he okay? What's going on?" He wanted to bolt up and run to Gibbs' side but he honestly wasn't sure he had the energy at present. His arms suddenly felt like lead and the pounding in his head was throwing him into a mental tailspin.

"He's fine. I don't know much. Just that they're doing some portable x-rays of his wrist and ankle and getting some films of his chest to check his ribs. I think they're waiting for the machine to become available so they can do a CAT scan and get a better look at what is going on with his head injury." The young man looked like he had already said too much.

 _Head injury._  Tony didn't like the sound of those words, especially when it came to Gibbs. The last thing either of them needed right now was a damn trip to Mexico.

"Thanks. If anything changes, anything at all, you'll make sure they come and get me?" Tony lifted a shaking hand to his forehead. Where was Palmer with that water?

"Are you sure I can't get someone for you? You don't look so good." The concern in the orderly's voice was genuine.

"It's been a long night." Tony dismissed him and tried to pull himself together a little. "Just have a headache. Friend went to get me some Advil." He pasted on his best disarming smile but could see the young man in front of him wasn't completely convinced. "Listen, just keep me in the loop. If I pass out, I promise to come and get you."

Undeterred but clearly used to dealing with stubborn patients, the orderly continued. "Have it your way, Agent DiNozzo. I can't force you to get medical treatment. But my name is Michael and if you could try to remember to yell it before you actually pass out? And maybe lean backwards? That would be helpful. I really hate having to clean teeth and blood off this table. It stains." He turned and walked away.

Tony's eyes dropped immediately to Gibbs' possessions which lay cradled in his lap. The knife was familiar. Gibbs had gotten him a similar-if not identical-one for his birthday many years ago. No gift wrap, no card, just the knife stuck point-first into the Formica of his desktop. From anyone else it might be considered a veiled threat, but he knew even then that even this tiny bit of acknowledgement was indeed the highest form of respect as far as Gibbs was concerned.

His fingers lingered on the cold steel for a moment, noticing how the weight of it felt reassuring. Eventually his attentions turned to the soft, worn, leather of Gibbs' wallet, the frayed but still-sound stitching along its border, the imprinted outline of its, no doubt, well-ordered contents.

He shouldn't. Tony knew he shouldn't. But the pull was too intense, the curiosity nearly overpowering despite the fact that his eyes really wanted to close and the throbbing at his temples made the world around him pulse in time with his heart.

Taking a glance around for McGee and Palmer and regretting the quick movement when it took a minute for the room to stop spinning, Tony drew in a deep breath and slipped trembling fingers gently into the seam of the wallet in his hand. Things inside were much as he'd expected. There were no stacks of discount cards, no video memberships, nothing unnecessary or frivolously sentimental. Driver's license, NCIS ID card, a modest amount of cash, a single credit card, and Gibbs' veteran's ID, all perfectly lined up, all perfectly in place. Tony smiled and fingered Gibbs' license, running his fingers over Jethro's name and birth date, the hard-faced picture in the lower corner. There was something about spying on the mundane details of the other man's life that made him feel closer to Gibbs, made Jethro seem more human to him.

Tony was about to close the wallet and tuck it away in his own pocket when he noticed a second fold behind the one which held five crisp twenty dollar bills. Dipping his fingers into it, he came out with a slightly larger than wallet-sized photo of Gibbs cradling a small infant in his arms while standing next to the bed of an exhausted looking, yet radiantly beautiful woman who was smiling up at him lovingly. Tony knew what he was looking at and the image blurred before he could swallow the lump that had formed in his dry throat. The edges of the picture were care-worn and the color faded, but the look of pure happiness, of unfiltered adoration on Gibbs' face was so powerful, so distinctly un-Gibbslike, that it set up an ache in his chest which had nothing to do with sore and over-used muscles.

Sniffing back the surge of emotion and blinking away the moisture from his lashes, Tony hastily tucked the picture back into its hiding place, but not before he noticed another photo. Assuming this one was yet another reminder of the wife and daughter Gibbs had lost, Tony's breath caught when, instead of what he'd expected, he came face to face with a photo of himself.

He squinted at the picture, having a hard time focusing on it for some reason. Tony thought he recognized the occasion, though he couldn't ever remember this photo being taken, couldn't even remember Gibbs being there, in fact. The team had been invited to Vance's home for a barbeque and pool party one 4th of July a few years back. Tony remembered it mostly because of the extremely tiny skull-covered bikini Abby had unveiled and the horrendous sunburn McGee had been sporting for almost a week afterward. Gibbs' presence was a blur, thought certainly he must have been there.

Tony had to admit the photo was one of the more flattering ones he'd seen of himself recently. Hs hair was wet and tousled, his damp skin kissed by the heat of the sun and shimmering with drops of water. He wasn't looking at the camera, was smiling widely at someone off to his left who remained out of the shot, but the photographer had captured him in an unguarded moment of happiness, and the open grin was genuine rather than the one he sometimes used as a mask. Tony was also largely unclothed, bared to the waist and clad only in damp and clinging swim trunks that accentuated his well-muscled thighs.

He was damn proud of those thighs.

The thought of Gibbs keeping this photo, however, of him drawing it out and looking at it, as he must do with the one of his wife and daughter, dumbfounded him at the same time it brought a rush of heat to his cheeks.

"What's that?"

McGee's voice startled Tony and the picture dropped from between his fingers to land on the linoleum and coast just out of his reach beneath the table. "It's nothing. Just an old picture." He leaned forward, noticing that Palmer had returned as well. Unfortunately, Tony was impeded by his propped up leg and Tim got to the photo first.

"Oh hey, I remember that," Palmer chimed in over McGee's shoulder. "That's where you forgot your sunscreen and Abby had that bathing suit that almost showed her…"

"We remember." Tony and McGee said in unison, effectively stopping Jimmy from elaborating further.

"Right." Palmer pushed his glasses up on his nose. "Where'd the picture come from?"

"Nowhere. Give it back, McGee," Tony said sternly.

"Is that Gibbs' knife?" Tim's eyes had strayed to Tony's lap and its contents. "And his wallet?"

"He asked me to hold them, now just give it back before I take it back." It was an empty threat as he didn't have the strength to get up off the couch let alone wrestle McGee over a stupid photograph if the other man chose to be stubborn.

Tim shrugged. "It's a good picture of you, I guess." He passed the photo back and his eyes widened as Tony tucked it hastily into Gibbs' wallet. "Tony, why does Gibbs…I mean, why would he..?" The sentence trailed off but the question remained.

"Let it go, McGee," Tony said flatly, locking eyes with the younger man until Tim nodded his understanding that this wasn't something they were going to talk about right now.

"Uh, I don't mean to interrupt, guys, but I found what I needed and I think I should probably take a look at Tony's leg. Your color doesn't look so good, Tony."

Palmer pushed past Tim without waiting for a response and took a seat on the couch perpendicular to the one Tony was resting on.

"My color is fine," Tony protested. "You find me some water? Or some Advil?" He scrubbed a hand over his eyes again, doing his best to keep it steady and failing miserably.

"Agent McGee, do you mind?" Palmer motioned Tim to move so that he somewhat blocked the view from the corridor. "I don't think I'm actually supposed to be doing this."

McGee shifted obligingly as Jimmy began unwrapping the blood-soaked bandages from around Tony's leg. He had donned gloves and had a number of thick pieces of gauze at the ready. "This is probably gonna hurt a bit," Palmer warned as he reached the last layer of padding. "And you might want to look away. I don't suspect it's very pretty."

Tony set his jaw and pressed his lips together hard, trying his best not to flinch and squirm as his discomfort grew exponentially. He felt air against his skin and a stinging burn through his whole calf as the pressure was released. He also felt a distinct queasiness in the pit of his stomach.

"Uh, Agent McGee? I think maybe you had better go and get some help." Palmer's voice was slightly tremulous.

"Just patch it up, Palmer. I won't get mad about a scar." Tony just wanted the procedure over.

"This is a lot deeper than I thought, Tony, and it hasn't closed up well. You're still bleeding pretty badly."

Tony opened his eyes and looked down. He knew it was a mistake the moment he saw the crimson gush from the jagged gash that ran several inches along his calf. His world tilted as the lights around him seemed to dim down and the sounds fade away. "Don't feel so good, Jimmy." The words were clear in his head but sounded jumbled as they left his lips.

"Now, McGee!" Palmer's voice was insistent.

Tony felt pressure against his calf and a sharp stab of pain. The last thing he remembered before his world faded to black was the feeling of cool hands behind his neck and an unfamiliar yet very brusque female voice issuing orders.

* * *

Tony heard noises around him. The world was dark but there was a sense of movement, of activity. The smells were wrong and unfamiliar, antiseptic and…

"Gibbs!" Tony came fully awake with a bolt of panic, tried to sit up despite his grogginess and the weight which was suddenly pressing against his chest, pushing him back into the mattress.

"Calm down, Agent DiNozzo. Your Agent Gibbs is just fine," a soothing female voice said calmly but firmly from his right.

Tony tried to focus, to make his eyes adjust to the bright light that was suddenly everywhere. "Where's Gibbs? What happened to him?" He stopped struggling against the hands gently but forcibly holding him down, realizing he didn't have near the strength to fight free right now.

"He's just fine. In fact, we'll bring you to him in just a minute if you'll calm down and answer a few questions for me. Do you know where you are, Agent DiNozzo?" Now that he had stopped struggling she removed her hand from his sternum.

"Hospital," Tony croaked. "Bethesda," he quickly clarified, just in case he was being graded on this.

"Very good. And clearly you remember that your friend is here as well. I think I can safely say you're back with us. My name is Eleanor and I'm a nurse here. Been taking care of your friend Agent Gibbs as well until he sent me looking for you. I'd say it's a good thing he did," she said patiently.

Tony focused in on the details of his surroundings. He was definitely in a hospital bed and the pinching tightness in his right arm made him turn his head and see the twin tubes extending into the crease of his elbow. One carried clear fluid, the other bright red.

"You're giving me blood?" he asked.

"And fluids and antibiotics to fight off infection. I threw some pain killers in there for good measure too. You can thank me later." She came around the side of the bed and checked his IV and infusion lines. "That cut to your leg was deep, almost right to the bone. I've seen men bigger than you go down for less, though it appears it was your own stubborn insistence on walking on it that kept it bleeding. I've cleaned and dressed the wound and the Doc's sutured you up tight, but you're going to need to stay off of it for a few days to give it time to heal internally."

Seemingly satisfied that all was well, Eleanor made a few notes in her chart.

"I thought you said you would take me to Gibbs?" Tony asked impatiently. He felt fuzzy and assumed it was the effects of the pain killers. He had to admit, his leg and head did feel an awful lot better thought.

Eleanor clucked in exasperation. "What is it with the two of you and one track minds? Only thing he could talk about was how concerned he was for you."

Tony thought he saw the corner of her mouth curl in a smile as she made her notes but when she turned back to him it was all business.

"There are two pretty anxious visitors outside waiting for word on you. Mind if I give them the update while I call the orderly to bring you to your room?" Eleanor asked as she slipped the chart back into place.

"My room? I don't need a room. Listen, you can unhook me from all this stuff now. Really, I'm fine. I just want to see Gibbs." Tony pushed himself up into a sitting position and tried to focus on the place where the IV's ran into his arm. He had the sudden and unexplainable urge to flee.

Eleanor rolled her eyes and calmly picked up a phone.

"Listen, if you're calling for backup, don't bother. I'm a civilian. I can sign myself out against medical advice if I want to," Tony protested despite the fact that his head felt stuffed with cotton and he really wasn't sure where his pants had gotten to.

"I'm not calling for backup." Eleanor covered the receiver with her hand and spoke calmly to Tony. "I'm calling prosthetics so they can come down and get a good measurement for the leg you're gonna need when you get gangrene and we have to cut yours off." She stared him down flatly. "Hello, Ed? This is Eleanor down in ER. Got one for ya. Yeah, I'd say we'll be looking at everything below the knee," she said matter-of-factly into the phone.

Tony's mouth worked soundlessly for a moment but his fingers stopped picking at the tape holding his IV's in place. "Okay, I get it," he grumbled finally, returning sullenly to his supine position.

"I'm glad. I'd hate to explain to that big, tough Marine in your room upstairs that the man he's been so concerned about is missing a limb," Eleanor said gently. "Looks like a false alarm, Ed, but I'll keep an eye on this one." She smiled into the receiver before placing it back on the hook.

"Gibbs is in my room?" Confusion and hope merged inside his fuzzy head.

"He should be by the time we get there." Eleanor crossed her arms beneath ample breasts. "Unless you'd like me to find you different accommodations for the night?"

A short while later, Tony's bed was wheeled upstairs as he fidgeted with the edge of his hospital gown and counted the banks of lights that passed overhead. He'd begged not to be drugged up again until he'd had a chance to see Gibbs and the dull ache that had returned to his leg was now a deep throbbing pain that set his teeth on edge. Finally, his gurney slowed and he was being turned into a semi darkened room.

Tony's eyes immediately sought out the occupant of the second bed and he nearly choked on the surge of relief that flooded through him at the sight of Gibbs' silver head resting on a stark white pillow.

With Gibbs' head swaddled in bandages, Tony could still see the deep purple bruises that colored the side of his face, nearly swelling his eye shut. This was the first time he'd seen him in anything resembling full light and he winced in sympathy.

"Head wounds tend to do that." Eleanor's voice drifted to him softly from the doorway. "Blood just follows gravity and drains right down. It's not nearly as bad as it looks and he'll be a whole lot prettier in a day or two."

"Is he…" Tony was afraid to voice his question. The vision before him was eerily familiar and it scared him right down to his toes.

"He's fine, just sleeping off the meds right now," she reassured him quickly. "And more battered than broken. The concussion was serious and he's going to need someone to watch him pretty closely for the next week or so. We've bandaged his ribs and the fracture to his leg doesn't look like it's going to require surgery so that's good news as well. From what your friends tell me about how they found you, it sounds like things could have been a lot worse."

"Yeah," Tony said quietly, only half hearing her report past the reassurance that Gibbs was well and truly okay. "What's the heart monitor for?" He was suddenly alarmed by the realization that Gibbs had a lot more wires than he had.

"Just a precaution. He had a lot of trauma to his sternum and ribs and sometimes that can cause internal swelling which interferes with heart function. We haven't seen anything unusual but we'll keep monitoring him just to be on the safe side."

"Can you…can you keep the curtain open?" he asked hesitantly as Eleanor prepped the pain meds she would push into his IV.

"Of course. Somehow I think things will be a lot easier for all of us if I do." She smiled down at him. "Ready?"

Tony nodded, hating to be drugged up but reassured now that he was with Gibbs again. A few seconds later, he felt the heaviness flow into his limbs and pull at him. This time he didn't fight as the beat of Gibbs' heart through the monitor lulled him into a blissful state of unawareness.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone for your comments and kudos so far!!!

At 0600, just as the sun barely began to peek through the half-turned slats of the heavy vertical blinds, Gibbs woke up feeling like he had been hit by a truck. Everything hurt. He attempted to open his eyes, but the left one refused to obey his command. Raising his splinted left hand to his face, he could feel the pronounced swelling around his eye. It was tender to the touch, and Gibbs figured it was probably a very familiar shade of dark purple.

He felt surprising well-rested despite Eleanor and some male nurse, whose name Gibbs couldn't recall, popping in at some point during the night to conduct a concussion check, take his temperature, and hang a new IV. They kept the question and answer session brief, so he was able to fall back to sleep almost immediately after the examination.

Against his better judgment, but needing the relief it afforded, Gibbs pressed the button to release a dose of morphine into his vein. His wrist was sore, but the immobilizing brace kept the pain to a dull ache. His casted left leg was elevated by a stack of pillows to keep the swelling down, which also helped to keep the pain in check. The short cast barely reached mid-calf, just below where a long row of sutures began that ran up almost to the bend of his knee.

The concussion-induced headache and broken ribs - four to be exact, with a few more severely bruised, if he remembered correctly - were definitely the sources of his worst pain. Reclined back instead of lying flat helped alleviate the pressure on his tender rib cage, but getting and staying in a comfortable position was proving to be a challenge. Gibbs had to resist an overwhelming urge to stretch his tired, aching muscles, something he had done upon waking for as long as he could remember, knowing that doing so with his rib cage nearly shattered would cause excruciating pain.

As the powerful narcotic began to take effect, Gibbs turned his head in the direction of a snort coming from the other occupant of his room. Tony! Somehow in the fog of exhaustion, pain, and whatever he had been injected with, Gibbs had forgotten that Tony was there. His brow furrowed in confusion as he tried to piece together everything that happened since they arrived at the hospital. Flashes of images and sounds, and bits of disjointed conversations tumbled around in his head as he tried to fit the pieces together until finally the picture came into focus. Eleanor had kept her promise to look after Tony.

Gibbs watched as the younger man absently scratched his nose before dropping his hand to his side. The IV line inserted into his arm did not go unnoticed, nor did the heavily bandaged leg resting elevated on top of the white blanket covering the rest of him.

"Ah hell, Tony," Gibbs whispered to himself, realizing that Tony had been injured far worse than he let on back in the basement. It was hard seeing him lying there so still, so pale, and so quiet. For someone as talkative and energetic as he typically was, it was a wholly unnatural state. Gibbs felt an immediate pang of guilt. Tony had several hospital stays under his belt, but those were all directly related to the dangerous nature of their jobs. This time it was different, and Gibbs felt personally responsible for Tony being there.

Soft snoring emanating from his roommate was the only tell-tale sign that Tony was in a deep, peaceful slumber. Hearing his name mumbled, Gibbs smiled. Except for Shannon, Gibbs had never felt such an instantaneous attraction to anyone, male or female, but the attraction wasn't purely physical. Along with respect and unwavering trust, there was great fondness and affection in play as well, almost from the very beginning. Gibbs found it sad that so many people, even some of those closest to him, refused to look past the carefree, shallow image Tony projected to see the deeper, more thoughtful, spiritual, caring man he was inside.

Gibbs sighed and thought about all that had transpired between them so unexpectedly. He had ignored the storm warnings and the churning in his gut, but he could no longer ignore the feeling that somehow there had been a profound shift in their relationship. In which direction they were headed, and to what end, was a puzzle with several pieces missing. All Gibbs knew was that just hours ago, in the damp darkness of a makeshift shelter, words had been exchanged that held as much mystery as they did promise.

Drowsy from the morphine, Gibbs closed his eyes but sleep did not come easily. His thoughts turned to his house and all that he had likely lost forever. The house would have to be torn down, but it could be rebuilt. Hell, he thought, it needed to be remodeled anyway. His furniture and other household appointments were a couple of decades out of date and would be easy to replace.

Gibbs felt his heart constrict knowing that there were things he could never replace; items of no value to anyone, but to him they were priceless and irreplaceable. The attic and bedroom that once belonged to Kelly held his most valuable treasures. Boxes containing Kelly's prized stuffed animal collection, keepsakes from his and Shannon's wedding, and countless hand-written love letters they had exchanged dating back to their first fateful meeting at the bus station in Stillwater. Thankfully, pictures drawn in crayon with a chubby little hand, school craft projects, and dozens of photographs that Shannon had taken of her and Kelly while he was overseas were locked away in a heavy fire-proof safe that he kept hidden beneath the basement stairs, or what now remained of them. Gibbs dozed off clinging to a glimmer of hope that something, some tiny memento of his girls, could be salvaged from the wreckage.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Gibbs awoke with a start two hours later to find Tony staring at him from his bed. If the look of concern on Tony's face was any indication, Gibbs knew he looked as battered, bruised, and beaten as he felt. With warm summer sunlight now streaming in, Tony looked much better than he had in the frosted light from the fluorescent fixture on the wall above his head.

They were alone again at last, but Gibbs didn't know what to say. He knew they couldn't avoid the elephant in the room indefinitely, but Gibbs wasn't sure if he was ready to revisit their earlier conversation under the stairs. He felt off-kilter as the enormity of last night's events began to sink in. There was a lot he needed to process, but being a solitary creature by nature, Gibbs was used to internalizing everything and dealing with his problems on his own.

Tony's eyes held questions, and Gibbs hoped that he would be able to provide at least some answers. He had plenty of questions of his own, but the words didn't come. Where Tony wore his heart on his sleeve, Gibbs kept his feelings and emotions safely bottled up. This was foreign territory for Gibbs. For the first time in a very long time, he wanted to talk and share his feelings, but the risk of saying the wrong thing was monumental. It was the fear of irreparably damaging what had become a cherished friendship that held him back. Gibbs settled for favoring Tony with a sleepy half smile.

Using the controls to raise the head of his bed so that he was in a more upright position, Tony dropped his gaze to his lap and picked at a loose string on the edge of the blanket. In a voice rough from sleep, Tony was the first to summon up the courage to speak.

"You okay, Gibbs?"

It was a simple question, but Gibbs pondered it before answering. Was he? His broken bones would mend, but then what? He didn't want to think about what came next; salvaging what he could of his shattered life and rebuilding the rest. "Yeah, fine."

Tony snorted. "Fine, my ass! They must have you on the good drugs, because you look like hell. What did the doctors say? They wouldn't tell me much."

"You think, DiNozzo? I did just have a house fall on me," Gibbs shot back more defensively than he intended. He felt bad as soon as the words were out and softened his tone. "Didn't mean to snap at you. Sprained wrist, broken leg, some busted ribs and a concussion. Nothing I haven't survived before. What about you? You okay?"

"Just the cut on my leg. Guess it was worse than I thought. Your friend Eleanor got to me after I passed out. I remember Probie and the Gremlin yelling for help and then when I came to, there she was, Nurse Ratched in the flesh. You know she threatened to have my leg cut off? Called some guy named Ed to have me fitted for a new one. Man, she scared the hell out of me! I get the distinct feeling she doesn't take much shit from anyone."

Gibbs tried not to laugh, but comparing Eleanor to Nurse Ratched was too much. Tony had convinced him to watch the cinematic masterpiece "One Flew Over the Cookoo's Nest" with him after a case that had required numerous visits to the hospital's Psych Ward. After seeing the film, all of Tony's rambling movie references during the case made sense.

Holding his right arm around his ribs, Gibbs chuckled, "Yeah, she's something all right. Glad she got to you when she did. I was worried about you, Tony." Gibbs' tone had turned somber.

Tony's smile morphed into a frown. "Yeah, I know. I was really scared last night, Gibbs. When I finally got there and couldn't find you, I damn near lost it. Then I saw the boat, and blood everywhere, and I didn't know what to do. When I finally found you in the corner, I ...," Tony paused as his emotions took control, forcing him to fight back tears that burned his eyes.

"Hey, it's okay," Gibbs said.

"No, it's my fault you got hurt. I should have been there last night, or at least called you. If I hadn't canceled, you wouldn't have been all alone in the basement. God, I'm so sorry, Jethro," Tony said shaking his head, his voice thick with sincere regret.

And there he was; the loyal St. Bernard that always took the blame for something that wasn't even remotely his fault. Tony already carried a decade's worth of guilt on his broad shoulders, and Gibbs would be damned if he would let him carry this too.

"Tony, look at me," Gibbs requested in a brusk tone just short of demanding. When Tony's pained eyes met his, Gibbs sighed. "Listen to me. There's nothing you could have done. I ignored the weather reports, I knew we were in for bad storms, and I could have gotten somewhere safer, but I didn't. Tony, I got hurt because I ignored my gut, not because you weren't there." Gibbs didn't blink or move a muscle until he knew the point was driven home when Tony nodded.

"Yeah, I know. Hey Gibbs, I hate to bring this up, but have you thought about what you're gonna do? I mean, you're gonna need a place to stay while your house gets rebuilt, right?" Getting an affirmative nod, he continued, "Well, I was thinking, maybe you could stay with me, that is - if you want to. God knows I owe you for all the times you've taken me in. And you know as well as I do the doctors are gonna want someone keeping an eye on you," Tony suggested, purposely leaving the question hanging.

Gibbs had only a few seconds to weigh the pros and cons of accepting Tony's offer. Yes he needed a place to stay, but was it a good idea? Did Tony really want him there 24/7, or was the offer made out of pity? It would be a chance to spend time together exploring the change in their relationship, but was it too much too fast? He wanted time to think about it, but by the look of disappointment on Tony's face, Gibbs knew he was expecting flat-out rejection. Not wanting to add to Tony's mountain of insecurities, Gibbs had his answer.

"If you're sure it's no trouble, I'd like that. Thanks, Tony," Gibbs said with a wink and a nod. His reward was a genuine beaming smile.

A moment later, Dr. Miller knocked and entered the room followed by none other than a smiling Dr. Brad Pitt. Brad almost seemed to have a sixth sense when it came to Tony. Each time Tony ended up in the ER, Brad managed to find out about it. Gibbs was actually surprised that he hadn't made an appearance until now.

Tony groaned for effect when he saw Brad and let his head fall back onto his pillow. Gibbs snorted and Brad chuckled.

"That happy to see me, eh DiNozzo?" Brad teased before moving to Gibbs' bed. "Hey, I was just making rounds and heard you were here. Sounds like you had a hell of a night. Thought I'd pop in and say hi and give Dr. Miller a hand, knowing what pains in the ass you two can be. Doc, DiNozzo there is all yours," Brad announced as he snatched Gibbs' chart from Dr. Miller's hand.

"He gonna be okay, Brad," Gibbs asked in a near whisper after Brad peeled the blood pressure cuff from his bicep.

Leaning over him to get a closer look at Gibbs' nearly swollen shut eye, Brad reported, "Gibbs, he's been banged up worse than this. The cut on his leg was deep, but they tell me there was no nerve or tendon damage. They repaired the calf muscle and he should be fine in a couple of weeks. You're the one I'm I worried about. Now sit still and let me have a look at you, then I'll have a nurse bring you an ice pack for that eye."

Gibbs tuned Brad out and watched as Dr. Miller removed the bandages from Tony's leg. Gibbs' eyes went wide at the sight of the neat row of surgical staples binding the skin and underlying tissue together. From Gibbs' vantage point, it looked like Tony's calf was being held closed with a zipper.

"Jesus, DiNozzo," Gibbs exclaimed when he saw the extent of the damage that had been done. It looked infinitely worse than it had earlier when he examined it by flashlight in the darkness of the basement. Gibbs was amazed that despite suffering such an injury, Tony had climbed out the window and back again to get help, kept him safe, secure and warm under the stairs, then helped McGee and Palmer get him to safety.

Gibbs fully expected to hear him to bitch and moan about having "the mother of all scars", but instead Tony seemed to view it as a badge of honor. Tony wore the confident look of pride well, and suddenly Gibbs saw him in a whole new light. He had never questioned Tony's bravery, sense of duty, or his dedication. He never needed to; they were but a few of Tony's most admirable qualities.

Tony DiNozzo was definitely one of a kind; a diamond in the rough at times, but when it counted most, he was the one person Gibbs knew he could always depend on in a dire situation. More times than Gibbs dared to count, Tony had put himself in harm's way to protect someone else, and he had no doubt that if Tony could turn back time, he would step in front of Kate on that rooftop and take the bullet Ari meant for her.

Unable to swallow the lump forming in this throat at that thought, Gibbs coughed. Suddenly, a plastic cup was held in front of him. Gibbs looked up to see Brad smiling down at him and nodding, almost as if he understood the thoughts swirling in his mind. He took the offered cup and frowned at the clear liquid. No amount of glaring or wishing was going to turn it into coffee.

"Don't drink too fast, Gibbs," Brad warned as Gibbs raised the cup to his lips.

"I need coffee," Gibbs grumbled over the rim before taking a tentative sip, followed by another, and another. The cool water soothed his parched throat as he slowly drained the cup dry. He handed the empty cup to Brad with a mumbled "Thanks" as he turned his attention back to Tony.

Doctor Miller redressed Tony's wound, did a routine check of his vital signs, and jotted notes on his chart. Flipping the metal chart cover closed, he announced, "Well, Agent DiNozzo, so far everything looks good, but - I would like to keep you here for a while longer to give the IV antibiotics a chance to really kick in. We replaced the blood you lost, but we need to get some more fluids in you just to make sure your blood pressure stays stable. I don't see any early signs of infection and your temp is normal, so I think we should be able to release you this afternoon. You can stop by the clinic in four to five days to get the staples out."

"Thank God!" Tony declared dramatically. "Nothing personal Doc, but I'm not a big fan of doctors and I really hate hospitals. Hey, think you can spring my boss, too?" he asked hopefully, jerking his thumb in Gibbs' direction.

Gibbs, on the other hand, was not a happy camper at all. Brad concurred with Dr. Miller's plan to keep him admitted at least one more day, or possibly two if he showed any signs of swelling inside his chest cavity from the trauma to his sternum and ribs. Gibbs' less-than-polite argument that he could lay around and "do nothing all damn day pretty much anywhere" fell on deaf ears. The younger doctor grew frustrated and left, leaving Brad behind to try and reason with his stubborn and surly patient. The young nurse that had come in to replace their empty IV bags scurried out quickly after completing her task during Gibbs' tirade.

"Dammit, Gibbs! One more day, maybe two, to give those broken ribs of yours a rest won't kill you, but pushing yourself too hard, too soon just might. Now, I'm going to go out there and tell Dr. Miller that you are going to behave and follow doctor's orders like a normal patient. I swear to God, Gibbs, if we have to sedate you to keep you here for your own good, we'll do it," Brad barked, meeting Gibbs' challenging death glare with one of his own.

Huffing petulantly, Gibbs caught Brad's victory smirk as he turned to leave. As the good doctor reached the door, Tony called out, "Hey Pitt, you better get him some strong coffee, and I mean stat!"

Tony broke into a full belly laugh mere seconds later when Ducky passed Brad in the doorway carrying a cardboard drink holder containing three large beverages and a pile of creamers and sugar packets and a large plastic bag hanging from his arm. Smirking back at Brad's exasperated, disapproving sigh, Gibbs had never been so happy to see Ducky in his life!

"Bradley, it is so good to see you! Tell me, how are our patients this fine morning?" Ducky asked with his customary cheerfulness.

"Doctor Mallard, good morning. Oh, just being their usual charming selves. I'll be back later, but for now I'll leave them to you," Brad replied with a heavy dose of sarcasm before stepping out into the hallway.

Once the heavy door snicked shut, Ducky turned and looked at Gibbs. If he was shocked by Gibbs' current battered state, he didn't let it show. Tony and Gibbs both had frequent flyer status at Bethesda, and Ducky was always able to insert his unsolicited opinion when it came to their treatment.

"I thought you might be needing this, Jethro," Ducky said as he offered Gibbs one of the two large coffees. He dropped the bag on the floor and leaned in for a closer inspection of Gibbs' eye. "My, my, Jethro, that is quite a nasty bruise you have there. Here, drink this and I shall go ask the nurse outside for an icepack."

"Thanks Duck, I owe you one," Gibbs replied with abject gratitude before toasting Ducky's travel mug of Earl Grey tea.

"And Anthony, of course. Here you go, my dear boy. I'll leave you to doctor it to your liking," Ducky chirped as he handed Tony his coffee and a handful of creamers and sugar.

"What's in the bag, Ducky?" Tony asked as he poured three sugar packets and two creamers into his coffee.

Ducky picked up the bag and placed it on Tony's lap. "Ah, Timothy asked me to give this to you. It is your personal effects and a change of clothing for each of you. I've taken the liberty of having the clothes you were wearing last night laundered."

"Thanks, Ducky," Tony said as he reached in to retrieve his watch and cell phone.

Ducky left and returned a few minutes later with an icepack which he gently applied to the large bump near Gibbs' left eye. He neatly wound two layers of gauze, which he had nicked from a supply cart next to the nurse's station, around Gibbs' head to keep it in place.

"There, that's more like it. That should help get that nasty swelling down."

Gibbs took a healthy swig of his favorite Starbucks dark roast Colombian blend and moaned in appreciation as the rich, full-bodied flavor danced over his taste buds. If asked, Gibbs would swear that coffee had magical healing power, since he no longer felt the slightest bit of a headache.

Settled in and content after a caffeine fix, Gibbs watched as Ducky pulled one of the world's most uncomfortable plastic chairs from its place in front of the window and placed it between the two beds. Ducky's expression had turned serious, and Gibbs feared even more bad news. He had never thought to ask about Ziva, or Vance, or anyone else in the NCIS family.

"What is it, Duck?" Gibbs asked.

Letting out a melancholy sigh, Ducky replied, "Oh, Jethro. I cannot begin to tell you how very truly sorry I am. I cannot possibly fathom what you have been through, emotionally as well as physically. Just know that we are all here for you should you need us. Why even Director Vance was quite concerned about your well-being, until Timothy and Mr. Palmer briefed him early this morning upon their return. If not for Leon Vance pulling some strings, as they say, well, I hate to think how long it would have taken them to find you. You should be proud of what those young men did. I most certainly am. Mr. Palmer thought it quite an adventure."

"Yeah, well that's one adventure I never want to have again," Tony exclaimed.

"That was some good work they did, Duck," Gibbs said with a nod. "Proud of both of them."

"As I knew you would be. Anyway, our esteemed Director has been in contact with officials on the scene in your neighborhood. It has been left to me to inform you that it has been deemed far too dangerous for you - or anyone for that matter - to attempt to retrieve your belongings. Local police and National Guard troops are keeping a close watch in the most affected parts of the city to prevent looting. Hopefully, in a few days time, we will be allowed to conduct a search and gather up whatever we can safely recover for you. As for the house itself, I am afraid it is damaged beyond repair."

"Yeah, I figured that much," Gibbs stated. He had already made peace with the idea of losing his house, but Ducky's pronouncement made it all too real.

Hearing a quiet sob, Gibbs looked over at Tony. The tears trickling from the corners of Tony's eyes nearly broke his heart. It hadn't really occurred to him until that moment, but Tony was grieving the loss too. Tony had mentioned several times that his house felt more like a home to him than anywhere else. He had equated it with safety and security, and admitted that he loved being there because it was the one place where he always felt welcome. Gibbs wanted nothing more than to wrap Tony in his arms and tell him that everything was going to be okay, but he had to settle for conveying it with his eyes.

Hearing a softly spoken, "Oh dear," from their visitor, Tony and Gibbs turned their attention back to Ducky. The warm smile that greeted them made Gibbs wonder if they hadn't given themselves away. Ducky had just recently commented that it was good that he and Tony were spending more time together outside of the office. He had noticed over the last couple of years that they had become somewhat distant. If Ducky deduced that there was more going on than their reawakened friendship, he never voiced any concern or opinion.

"I do have one small bit of good news for you, Jethro. Timothy reported that your garage appeared to have suffered only minimal damage. It has been confirmed by a Lieutenant with the National Guard on the scene that your beloved Challenger is safe and sound. I hope this news brings you at least a modicum of comfort. As soon as the streets have been cleared of debris and deemed safe for travel, I am to be notified, and I will personally oversee its recovery," Ducky announced.

That bit of news brought a smile back to Tony's face. Gibbs had to admit, it lifted his spirits a bit as well.

Ducky stood and grabbed Gibbs' chart from where it hung at the foot of his bed. Gibbs could see the wheels turning as he flipped through the pages.

"And speaking of recovery, have you given any thought to where you will stay during yours, and, of course, while decisions are made about rebuilding your home? Of course, you know that you are more than welcome to come stay with me. I have plenty of room, and ..."

"S'ok, Ducky," Tony interrupted. "We've already talked about it. Jeth, uh, I mean Gibbs is going to stay with me, at least for a while anyway."

Ducky tried his best to persuade them that since Tony was also going to be on the mend it would be more prudent to have Gibbs stay with him, but Gibbs cut him off. "You heard the man, Duck. I appreciate the offer, but I'll be bunking at DiNozzo's place. Besides, this way I can keep an eye on him and make sure he follows doctor's orders. Of course, I'm sure you're welcome to drop in and check on us."

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Gibbs knew he was lucky, damn lucky, to be alive. After a light lunch of the standard, bland fare that the hospital passed off as food, Ducky provided running commentary as the three men sat and watched the horrific videos and still pictures play on the small wall-mounted TV at the foot of Gibbs' bed. The "breaking news" banner scrolling across the bottom of the screen told a sad tale: The death toll had risen overnight to twelve, including four small children.

The Weather Channel expert that ZNN was interviewing confirmed that officials were calling the sensationalized "Alexandria Tornado" a strong EF3, which had cut a half-mile wide path of destruction during the fifteen minutes it was on the ground. Dozens of homes and businesses had been completely destroyed, and more than a hundred others had suffered serious damage.

"What about the rest of my team, Duck?" Gibbs asked tiredly. He'd seen enough and switched off the power to the tv. He tossed the remote onto the bedside table.

"All are quite well, Jethro, and I expect they will be in to visit you shortly. I ordered Mr. Palmer and Timothy to get some sleep. They were both exhausted when they returned late last night. Poor Abigail was beside herself with worry until they returned with the news of your timely rescue. Ziva was at home and out of the storm's path. The rest of us, with the exception of you and Anthony, of course, remained at the Navy Yard all night. I've been told that a few of our colleagues suffered damage to their homes, but any reported injuries so far have been minor, thank God."

Gibbs yawned and winced as his chest expanded beneath the tight bandages. He grabbed the control unit by his side and released another dose of morphine. Tony was also losing the fight to stay awake.

"Well, gentlemen, I see you both need your rest so I shall take my leave. I will be back to check on you later," Ducky said softly.

"See 'ya, Duck," Gibbs managed to mumble before he succumbed to sleep.

McGee showed up around 1300 hours, just as Tony was signing his discharge paperwork. Gibbs was grateful that McGee had been alone when Tony called to see if he could pick him up and drive him home. He was tired and in more pain than he wanted to admit, and frankly he wasn't up for dealing with more visitors.

While an orderly helped a grumbling Tony into a wheelchair, Gibbs called McGee over and offered his right hand. "You did good last night, Tim. You made me proud," Gibbs stated with a respectful nod.

"Thanks, Boss. I'm just glad you guys are gonna be okay," McGee replied with a smile as he returned the handshake.

"Just get him home and keep an eye on him, will you? You know how DiNozzo is about following doctor's orders," Gibbs said to McGee while glaring a warning at Tony.

Tony groaned when McGee announced that Abby was already on her way to babysit him.

"Oh that's just great! I see a pedicure and a lot of girl talk in my future. I'm coming back first chance I get, Boss," Tony called over his shoulder as he was wheeled out the door.

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Without Tony there to keep him company, Gibbs slept the rest of the afternoon and most of the evening. Dr. Miller and staff nurses paraded in and out his room at regular intervals during the afternoon to complete the requisite checks on him. Hospital volunteers had been by a few times to deliver flowers and "Get Well" cards from friends and colleagues, and Gibbs was oddly touched by the outpouring of support.

Fornell called to offer his sympathies and promised to visit the next day. Keeping the mood light, he offered to help break him out of the hospital. Gibbs always appreciated the way his friend could dance around the edges even in the most serious of situations. Fornell relied on humor and sarcasm instead of offering empty platitudes, but he did end the call on a sincere note.

"Christ Jethro, you are one tough son-of-a-bitch! Hate to do this 'cuz I don't want to set your recovery back, but I'm supposed to tell you that Diane sends her regards. Look, get some rest. I'll be by in the morning with coffee. Night, Jethro."

It was now 2100 hours, and Gibbs was wide awake and alone with his thoughts. The earlier images from the news footage played over in his mind. So many places that were part of his daily life had been reduced to rubble. His favorite lumber yard was missing most of its roof. The only thing left of the Starbucks he stopped at every morning on his way to work was the large sign, which now lay in the middle of the street. Half of the nearby strip mall had been completely obliterated while the other half appeared unscathed. Such was the unpredictable nature of tornadoes. Nothing up and down the main thoroughfare he traveled looked familiar anymore.

Gibbs turned on the TV and flipped through the channels hoping to find something to distract him. He watched a couple of segments of "CSI" until he got fed up with the unrealistic portrayal of crime scene investigation.

"Yeah right," he commented with a snort. "You try telling Abby that you can match DNA in five minutes."

Surprised to find they offered the The History Channel, he settled in to watch a documentary on the last days of World War II. During a commercial break, Gibbs glanced over at the bed Tony had vacated only a few hours ago and realized how much he missed him being there. He wondered how he was getting along, and part of him hoped that Tony was missing him, too.

It had been a long time since Gibbs actually missed someone and longed to see them again. It was usually enough just to see Tony's smile when he arrived in the bullpen each morning, but now that would never be enough. Gibbs hoped that Tony wanted more of a relationship as much as he did. The thought of coming 'home' with Tony every day both excited and terrified him, but come hell or high water he was going to figure out a way to make it work.

Gibbs was startled when the phone next to his bed rang. He picked up the heavy receiver on the second ring and answered with his usual greeting. "Yeah, Gibbs."

He smiled when he heard the voice on the other end of the line. "Hey, Tony. I'm glad you called."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, since a couple of you mentioned her in your reviews, I just had to have Tony compare Eleanor to Nurse Ratched! LOL! Speaking of Eleanor, I am so glad you all liked her. She was so much fun to write! - The Probie


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys are sprung from the hospital! Is it a new beginning for Gibbs and Tony, or will a knock at the door ruin everything?

Gibbs was coming to his home.

His home. 

To stay.

Not for a quick beer. Not for dinner and maybe a showing of 'Platoon' or 'Rio Bravo' if Tony could sneak it in before Jethro's fingers started itching for the wood and sand paper and isolation waiting for him back in his basement.

There was no basement for Gibbs to withdraw to now. No cold beer or dusty bottle of Bourbon waited with the silence and the ghosts to welcome him home at the end of the night. This would be Gibbs' home for now, and the two of them would just have to work that out as they went along.

Tony was beginning to think maybe he should have mulled this whole idea over just a bit more before being so insistent. It wasn't that he didn't want Gibbs staying with him. Well, not exactly anyway. It was more the idea of being in such close proximity to him for hours on end, being surrounded by his smell, his heat, and his increasingly frequent and semi-disturbing casual touches, that made Tony edgy. It was the unshakable thought that he'd be spending whole days with nowhere to run from the want he found it impossible to fight any longer and it just…well, it just scared the ever living hell out of him if he was really being honest with himself.

The even more frightening development, the one that really had his guts twisting and his breath coming in sharp little startled gasps every once in a while, was the look of curiosity and affection he'd seen in Gibbs' eyes since the basement. Those darkly contemplative looks that said Jethro was quietly trying to puzzle out something in his own head and was almost there. The looks that had that tiny spark of hope swirling in Tony's stomach and making him think that maybe…maybe, there was just the craziest bit of a reason to let it take hold.

Scrubbing a hand over his face and through his hair, Tony watched two men in blue jumpsuits from Carl's Mattress Emporium disassemble his small yet functional twin and replace it with a sturdy king that seemed almost monstrous in comparison. He'd managed to sneak out yesterday afternoon when Abby got called in to handle some incoming evidence, and he'd had only one destination in mind. The new bed had slatted head and foot boards of solid oak that matched his single night stand. They were hand crafted and strong enough to meet even Gibbs' harsh inspection.

He'd checked.

Three times.

Tony had scrutinized each seam and groove, looked for the telltale marks of hand tools-skills Gibbs had taught him-that marked this piece as what it claimed to be. It had taken some doing and more than a little bit of extra cash to ensure delivery today along with the new pillow-topped mattress set, but he was running short on time and options.

He couldn't say exactly what it was that prompted the spur of the moment purchase. Tony had already planned to give Gibbs his bed and take a spot on the couch, but he'd found himself unexpectedly standing in his bedroom more than once since he'd returned home. Standing and staring at the space designed so meticulously for one, while his gut screamed at him that the set-up was wholly inadequate for the kind of life he suddenly found parts of himself secretly contemplating when the rest of his brain wasn't looking.

Maybe a double bed or a Queen would have made more sense as a stepping stone, but in his head a king seemed the logical choice. As used to sleeping alone as he was, Tony had no confidence that even if he found someone worthy and wanting to share his bed he'd be able to eke out a decent night's sleep with another body tangled around him. In part, the idea was appealing, but there were certain practicalities to be considered as well. A king sized bed seemed…safe. If Tony found himself wanting to flee, he only needed to roll over into another hemisphere and he could pretend he was completely alone.

Of course it wasn't like that was a situation that was going to present itself in the immediate future. At least that's what he kept firmly telling the controller of the widescreen at the back of his head that insisted on projecting the image of Gibbs fucking the every living hell out of him atop those new crisp, white sheets. Fucking him while Tony held tight to those thick wood slats and came and came and came until there was nothing left.

It certainly wasn't his first fantasy involving Gibbs, but this one was a bit more persistent and kept popping up at very inopportune moments where he had to work like hell to keep his dick in check.

Looking at his watch, Tony glanced nervously at the door. The swapping of the beds was taking a bit longer than he had anticipated and Tim and Abby were due back with a list of supplies they'd insisted on picking up for him since Tony had been ordered to stay off his leg and keep it elevated as much as possible for at least another day.

As if on cue, he heard a faint ruckus outside his door and the sound of, what appeared to be, more than one bag of groceries colliding with the hallway carpet. Rolling his eyes and starting for the entryway, Tony made it most of the way to the landing before McGee, Abby, and several unbalanced and slightly damaged looking parcels burst through his front door and barely avoided landing in a large heap at his feet.

"Tony! You're not supposed to be up," Abby admonished as she righted herself and shed her bags one at a time.

"And last time I checked, you weren't my mother or my doctor," Tony said steadily as he arched a brow. Two days and he was already more than a little tired of being coddled.

"Anthony DiNozzo, do not make me tie you to that chair, because you know I can and you know I will." She clumped down the steps and moved toward him with a raised finger.

Tony surrendered with a dramatic sigh knowing that most of his irritation had to do with his own frayed nerves rather than Abby's over attentiveness. He really didn't have it in him to fight right now. "I've been keeping it up the whole time you were gone, Abbs. Don't worry." He submitted placidly to the hand on his forehead that checked for fever.

"Good. Because I left my ropes back at my apartment and you know how I feel about settling for sub-standard equipment." She smiled prettily, winked, and leaned in to kiss his cheek, seemingly satisfied that he wasn't actively dying at that precise moment.

"Uh, Tony? What's going on in your bedroom?" McGee pointed toward where the two workmen were just finishing up while Abby moved past them into the kitchen.

"Oh." Tony fought hard to keep the heat from rising into his cheeks. "There was a sale. A couple weeks ago. Almost forgot about it being delivered with everything else going on," he lied smoothly. "Been looking for a new bed for a while."

"Uh huh." Tim sounded completely unconvinced.

"What? Can't a man want to spread out a little in his own bed?" Tony knew he should probably let it drop but couldn't bring himself to do so.

"So you're telling me the fact that you've suddenly switched from the world's tiniest bed to…that thing," Tim gestured toward the now set-up king," has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that Gibbs is coming to stay here?" He looked at Tony calmly, as if begging him to deny it.

"You get hit on the head during that storm too, Probie? You're talking crazy." Tony's eyes kept straying back to the bedroom guiltily even as he refuted Tim's assertion. "Listen, Gibbs is injured. He needs a comfortable place to sleep while he heals. He gets the bed. I get the couch. End of story. So don't go starting crazy rumors McGossipGirl."

McGee shrugged. "Tell yourself whatever you want, Tony. I saw the way he was looking at you when we found you. I saw the way you were looking at him too. Abby says she's seen it for a long time but if I hadn't…If I hadn't seen him touch you like that…If I hadn't seen that photo in his wallet." Tim shook his head. "I don't even know how to feel about it, but there's something there, Tony, and denying it isn't going to make it just go away."

"You don't know what you're talking about, Tim." Tony's voice was quiet this time, almost regretful. "It was like in the movie, 'Speed', where Sandra Bullock and Keanu Reeves have all that sexual tension because they're staring down death and running for their lives? But it's just the heat of the moment. The adrenalin rush. They know it won't last. It's not real." His inner fears were making themselves known out loud now, and to the most unlikely of sources.

"But we face down death together every damn day, Tony, and Gibbs doesn't look at me or Ziva like he was looking at you that night. I know what I saw. Maybe I know more than you do." McGee shrugged and walked into the kitchen to join Abby in the unpacking process, leaving a speechless Tony in his wake.

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Abby squinted at both men as they slunk up to the counter in turn. "What?"

"Nothing," the two of them said in unison, and then looked at each other, clearly surprised by the mutually tight-lipped response.

Abby looked from Tony to McGee, obviously aware that something had passed between them and waiting for one or the other to come out with it.

After a tense moment and a quick side-glance at Tim, Tony cleared his throat. "So, were you able to get everything on the list?" He hoped his not-so-subtle segue was a signal that he wasn't open to a discussion at the moment.

Abby's face lit up triumphantly and she quickly moved past her suspicions. "Almost everything. Still have half a car full downstairs." She looked pointedly at McGee who rolled his eyes but departed without argument.

"It was really sweet of you to think of all those things, you know," Abby said as soon as they heard the front door close firmly behind Tim. Her eyes got all big and dewy as she laid a hand on Tony's upper arm. "I know Gibbs will be really touched that you did all of this for him, Tony, even if he doesn't exactly say it. Even if he can't say it." She bit her lip, clearly debating something. "Tim said that when he found you, the two of you looked like you were…together, a little more than usual. He said Gibbs held your hand." She was unable to keep the edge of excitement from creeping into her voice.

"Don't." Tony shook his head. "We were both scared and relieved to get out of there alive, Abby. Don't let McGee make it into more than it was."

"What was it, Tony?" she pressed gently. "I mean, all the things you had me buy? You'd have to care pretty deeply about someone to think of all that. Don't tell me…"

"He doesn't have anything, Abby," Tony interrupted. He was desperate to steer the conversation in a different direction. "I just wanted him to feel at home, that's all. Just let it go, okay?"

Abby nodded reluctantly but not before she gave his arm a decidedly sympathetic squeeze.

"What about the rest of the list?" Tony started poking into the open bags on the counter.

"Well, they were totally out of the farmer's bread you wanted so I got sourdough instead. I got all the fresh fruit from that market you told me about off of H street, and we even made it to Little Italy for the fresh pasta." She ticked off items as she unpacked. "We found the shower chair and all the bath stuff and totally stocked you up on bandages and other first aid supplies."

"Thanks, Abbs. I mean it. I couldn't have gotten all of this done without you. And McGee too, of course," Tony said sincerely.

Abby looked at him uncertainly from beneath dark lashes. "Tony, are you really sure you can handle this on your own? You're still not completely on your feet and Gibbs is going to need someone to help him with all kinds of things, really help him, Tony. And he's gonna be stubborn and try to do way too much himself, you know that, right?" Her hand kept returning to his arm as if his physical presence was reassuring. "Why don't you let Ducky or I stay with you both, at least for the first couple of days."

It was unlike Abby to be so completely serious and Tony now understood that she'd sent McGee running on purpose. "We're both gonna be fine, Abbs. Only thing I need to do for myself is change bandages and remember to take pills, something I've had a lot of practice at over the years. I can take care of whatever Gibbs needs. I already talked to his doctor about it. Where do you think the list came from?" He was still a little nervous about the help Dr. Miller and the nursing staff had said Gibbs would need with bathing and dressing but Tony assumed that would sort itself out one way or another. "I promise I'll let you know if it's too much," he reassured her sincerely.

Abby sighed, clearly realizing that any further discussion was moot. "Okay, but we're all here if you need us."

"I know, Abbs." Tony leaned in and kissed her cheek fondly before he let her return to the unpacking. This was the most food he'd had in his place since the disastrous incident with his father a few years back. He wasn't exactly sure where they were going to fit it all.

"So, about that bed?" Abby quirked a wicked smile and artfully dodged Tony's smack to her bottom as she turned for the refrigerator.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tony stared out his living room window at the sun-dappled shadows of the street below. When he'd returned home yesterday, he'd been grateful to find that the power had been restored. Parts of the city were still shut down completely including Gibbs' neighborhood and the areas around it, but most of DC was moving on, picking itself up, and dusting off quite nicely.

His sense of time was woefully off-kilter. Less than 72 hours ago he'd stood at this window watching the approaching storm, thinking of Gibbs, head heavy with guilt, regret, and wanting. Time had crawled for him since that moment and Tony had to keep reminding himself that the rest of the world had moved at a normal pace while he had been stuck in other-worldly slow motion.

Below him, people rushed by, scurried home like usual, walked their dogs, carried packages, every one of them unaware that a profound shift had taken place in his universe since he'd last stood here gazing down at them.

Already there had been change. The door to Tony's heart was still far from wide open, but now a sliver of light shone through and illuminated the dusty and barren corners whose emptiness had become so familiar to him, he'd nearly forgotten their promise and purpose. He allowed his thoughts to linger a bit longer on Jethro now, to dwell without the guilt and shame and fear that had so colored his imaginings before a few days ago.

Change.

The word represented so many things all wrapped up in two tiny but efficient syllables. For Tony, change was hope. Change was fear. It was all of the things he told himself could live without at the same time it was the stuff that colored the dreams he would never admit to having. Change was the enemy of the perfect world of contented illusion he had created around himself. It was the catapult that would bring down his walls even as he surrendered. And yet he was almost hungry for it now, starving for the touch and the smell and the taste of change after fighting against it for so long.

Maybe I want things to change…I know what we're talking about, Tony. 

Those words kept repeating in a stubborn loop in his head. Did Gibbs really know? Was it really what he wanted? Was it really what Tony wanted? There were so many questions that needed answering. So many that he was afraid to ask.

The knock on the door drew him out of his reverie with a start and he realized his breathing and heart rate had both sped up.

Like it or not, change had come to call for good or ill.

Tony ran a nervous hand through his hair as he stood before the door, schooled his features, and ushered in a smiling Ducky and a not-so-smiling Gibbs.

Gibbs was limping heavily on a bulky cast around the lower part of his injured leg. He looked tired and there was a tightness around his eyes that Tony didn't like. While he didn't appear to be in any discomfort when walking, his gait was awkward and Tony could almost hear the grumbling going on inside his head.

Tony's eyes drank in Gibbs from head to toe, lingering on the bandages around his temple, the yellowing bruises on the side of his face, the unnatural stiffness to his upper body that came from his bound up ribs, the brace that circled his wrist and looped over his thumb. All the while, the little checklist that had become so important to him during their time in the basement and immediately after repeated itself in Tony's head. He is whole. He is breathing. He is here. 

Tony's breath hitched at the distinct softening he detected around Jethro's eyes the moment the other man caught him in his appraisal. There was that curiosity again, the slight cock of Gibbs' head, the new and unmistakable interest that lit an instant fire in Tony's belly.

It took a few moments for Tony to realize that Ducky had been talking since he and Gibbs had come through the door and he shook himself out of his temporary haze to focus on the ME's rapid fire instructions.

"The bandages are to be changed twice per day. If there is no significant drainage you can switch to butterfly bandages alone in a day or so. As for the sutures on his arm and leg, those should stay as dry as possible, though patting with a soft cloth during a shower is fine provided you dry them thoroughly and redress them. They'll come out in another week or so." He turned to Gibbs and raised a finger. "And no taking them out yourself this time, Jethro. I mean it," he admonished sternly. "Anthony, I trust you know how to monitor for signs of infection?" Ducky's eyes went from one man to the other, clearly aware now of the heaviness hanging between them.

Tony's eyes strayed back to Gibbs who was still gazing at him in ponderous silence.

"Yes, well. I've written everything else down on an easy schedule for you," Ducky said with a trace of doubt when his query returned no response. "I do still wish you'd reconsider and let someone stay and keep an eye on both of you for a few days." He looked hopefully from Tony to Gibbs.

"I think we're good, Duck," Gibbs said without breaking eye contact with Tony.

"Right then," the ME said somewhat awkwardly. "I'll just leave these medications on the kitchen counter and get out of your way. After I check Anthony's wound, of course. " He arched an eyebrow as he walked away shaking his head and muttering something about the universal stubbornness of man.

"So I should probably go and…" Tony stuck his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the kitchen, but he was absolutely mesmerized by the fact that Gibbs refused to avert his gaze.

"Probably," Gibbs said steadily. Whole volumes could have been filled with the words that weren't passing between them in that moment.

After what felt like hours but were probably mere seconds, Tony somehow managed to shake himself loose from the weight of Gibbs' gaze and follow Ducky into the kitchen with only a few backward glances. He caught up with the ME just as he finished placing a pile of tubes and pill containers in a well-ordered row along with a neatly penned sheet of instructions and timetables. Tony didn't miss the slightly disapproving stare. "I'll take care of him, Ducky. I promise."

Ducky drew himself up to his full height and managed to look as menacing as Tony had ever seen him. "You'd better. And yourself as well, Tony. Or you'll have me to answer to."

Tony was pretty sure they weren't just talking about caring for Gibbs' wounds any longer. He nodded his understanding of Ducky's larger implication, grey-green eyes steady and unflinching despite his nerves.

Ducky seemed slightly more satisfied. "He'll need to take these in the next hour. Preferably with some food if you can talk him into it." He held forth one of the many bottles.

"If there's one thing I can do, it's food." Tony brightened a little, indicating the countertops around them that overflowed with baked goods and fruit.

"Having enjoyed many a fine meal of yours, I've no doubt of your particular skills in that area. Or several others, in fact." He clapped a stunned Tony on the back. "Now, let's have a look at that leg, shall we?"

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Gibbs had watched as Ducky changed Tony's bandages and announced that the wound seemed to be healing quickly now that it was properly closed up.

"DiNozzos always heal quickly," Tony quipped.

"I'd still keep it dry for the next day or so. It's likely to become quite itchy as it heals further so use some of the hydrocortisone cream if it becomes intolerable but keep your hands off," Ducky warned. "I'll come back and check both of you tomorrow unless I hear something in the meantime, but if you continue to do as well as you are, Tony, I'd say I could take the staples out for you in another few days and replace them with butterfly bandages."

Tony didn't miss the relieved look on Gibbs' face at Ducky's pronouncement. There was something else there too, something he didn't understand. Guilt, maybe? But that didn't make sense.

He didn't have long to dwell on it, however, as Ducky gathered his things and departed. He walked the ME to the elevator, only to return to his apartment and find that Gibbs had disappeared.

It didn't take Tony long to hear the muffled curses and sounds of rattling pill bottles from his kitchen. He found Gibbs at the counter wrestling wearily with a child-proof lid. It appeared that the brace on his wrist and hand was making the container fairly Gibbs-proof as well.

"Let me help you." Tony quickly stepped in and tried to grab the bottle from Gibbs who turned away from him.

"I got it," Gibbs argued stubbornly.

Tony took a breath, realizing this was likely the first of many confrontations of this sort to come. "You don't have it, Gibbs. Listen, part of you staying here is letting me help you, and if we have to go rounds every time you need to take a pill, one of us is going to shoot the other one before the week is out."

Jethro's mouth hardened in frustration and his fingers flexed around the plastic lid, but he didn't protest further.

Taking a chance and resting his hand lightly on Gibbs' wrist, Tony tried again. "Let me help you," he said gently.

Gibbs blinked at him for a moment but whether he was surprised by Tony's bold insistence or his tenderness was an impossible read. With a barely perceptible nod, he handed over the container.

"How many?" The bottle in his hand was only over-the-counter pain reliever but Tony knew he had just won a pretty major battle.

"Three," Gibbs said shortly. "Two of this one." He handed Tony a second bottle and waited.

A moment later, Tony watched while Gibbs downed three Excedrin and his antibiotics with some water, rubbing his eyes as he set the glass back down on the counter to the accompanying clink of fine crystal.

Tony pushed a banana into Gibbs' hand, remembering his instructions from earlier. "Ducky says you need to take those with food."

"Don't suppose there's any point in arguing this one either?" Gibbs sighed, seemingly resigned to his fate as he rubbed at his temple for a moment before peeling the barely ripe fruit.

"Headache?" Tony asked lamely, trying to keep his eyes off of Gibbs' mouth as the other man devoured the rather phallic fruit in 3 efficient bites. Holy fuck. Tony bit the inside of his lip so hard he tasted blood and still felt his cock give an undeniable twitch. Crackers. Next time he would give Gibbs crackers. 

Gibbs nodded. "'M fine," he said as he swallowed. "Just need to close my eyes for few minutes. Couch will do." He dropped the peel in the bin near the center island and headed back into the living room before Tony's hand on his arm brought him to an abrupt halt. Gibbs looked at the fingers wrapped gently around his bicep and then up at Tony with an arched brow.

"You can take my bed…the bed, Gibbs." Tony let his hand drop away, afraid he may have overstepped his bounds just a little. "And don't argue. Ducky might not have noticed, but I've seen you favoring your ribs since you came through the door. I won't have you sleeping on my couch in your condition." He was surprised by the steadiness of his own voice. Leroy Jethro Gibbs was not someone you gave orders to under most any circumstance but maybe he was feeling heady with confidence after his victory a moment ago.

Grunting at Tony's insistence, Gibbs did look slightly relieved by the thought. "Need to hit the head first. Pumped me full of so many fluids in that damn hospital I think my eyeballs are floating. You're not gonna try and help me with that too, are you?"

"Think you can take that one on your own, Boss." Tony grinned, happy to see bits of their normal banter shining through after a few awkward moments. "Though I do have something to show you."

Tony was moving just a little faster than Gibbs and was glad that he reached the doors separating his bedroom from the main living area first. His fingers hesitated on the knob but he managed the semblance of nonchalance as he drew the door open and made way for Gibbs. Tony nearly bowled the other man over when he stopped just inside.

Gibbs didn't say a word but it was clear he had noticed the change in décor immediately. He'd been to Tony's apartment often enough to know that a twin bed was standard fare and the bed that now filled half the room was a significant deviation from the status quo as well as a very recent addition.

Unable to ignore the slight widening of Gibbs' eyes as they lit on the new bed, Tony waited for the inevitable. He wasn't sure whether to be relieved or disappointed, however, when Gibbs merely quirked an amused grin, gave a low chuckle, and then trudged off to the attached bathroom.

"What in the hell is this?" Gibbs' bellow from the en suite startled Tony a moment later.

"Uh, is it safe to come in, Gibbs?" Tony hesitated at the door.

"Get the hell in here, DiNozzo."

Pushing the door open, Tony found Gibbs examining the chair that now inhabited his walk-in shower. "It's for you. The people from the hospital said you would need…"

"I can stand up for five minutes in the shower, Tony," Gibbs interrupted with a grumble, though some of the fire had gone out of his initial blow up.

"Not without getting your cast all wet," Tony argued. "And you can't bend down with your ribs like that so they said I'd probably…uh, that I'd probably have to help you." The last bit came out in a rush.

"They did, huh?" Gibbs had gone from anger to obvious amusement in the space of a sentence.

"Well, they said you could get someone to come in and help but I thought…"

"You thought you'd do it yourself," Gibbs finished.

"I have the number to call and schedule someone if you want," Tony offered, hoping the disappointment didn't show in his voice.

"Nah. You're right. This is better. Guess this thing isn't so bad." He wiggled the chair back and forth, testing its sturdiness. "Any other surprises I should know about before we get there?" Gibbs raised an eyebrow at Tony.

"Open that drawer." Tony pointed to a space below the vanity. For some reason his heart was suddenly in his throat.

Gibbs pulled the handle and let the drawer slide open smoothly. His face was unreadable as he took in the contents. "You did this?"

"Thought you might need a few things to feel at home." Tony had painstakingly recreated the contents of the drawer in Gibbs' own bathroom in his home, right down to the other man's favorite brands of toothpaste, deodorant, shaving soap, comb, and razors. The toothbrush he'd had Abby pick up was even the same color and brand.

"How did you…" Jethro seemed unable to complete the sentence and swallowed hard.

"You trained me, Gibbs. How many times have I stayed the night over the years? Did you really think you could let me loose in your house without me doing some investigating?" Tony tried to keep it light but it was obvious Gibbs was moved by the gesture.

"What else?" Gibbs seemed to instinctively know there was more.

Tony pushed himself off the wall where he had been leaning and led the way to the long dresser that lined one side of the bedroom. "Here." He pulled open two drawers. "Couldn't bring myself to shop at Sears even for you, Gibbs, but I tried to stick with your style.

One drawer contained boxers in assorted colors and soft, white t-shirts, the same cut Gibbs always wore despite Tony's secret desire that the other man develop a liking for V-necks. The other, larger drawer held several folded polo shirts, a couple pairs of sweats and wide-legged jeans to accommodate his cast, and the thing Tony had been the most insistent about, a red, hooded sweatshirt with the Marine's logo, the twin of which now rested somewhere in the rubble of Gibbs' house.

Watching as Gibbs slowly ran his hands over each item in turn and then finally drew out the red sweatshirt, Tony almost felt like he should give him a moment alone. He cleared his throat awkwardly to break the silence that had fallen. "There are khakis and a couple other shirts in the closet. I washed everything. Well, actuality I had Zuzu at the laundry down the street wash everything, but either way, it's all clean and ready to wear."

"You shouldn't have done this, Tony." Jethro's voice was quiet, thick.

"You needed things, Gibbs. You needed things and I needed to do this for you." Tony wasn't exactly sure how to explain and the words coming from his mouth felt wholly inadequate to the moment. "I want you to think of this as your home. For however long you need it to be, okay? That means you get drawers. You get drawers and a bed and closet space and whatever else you need, understand?"

Gibbs didn't respond. When he'd moved aside the sweatshirt, the last of Tony's little surprises had been revealed and his hands dipped back into the drawer to remove the bone handled carving knife and shapeless chunk of wood that lay hidden beneath.

"Oh." Tony shuffled his feet a little uncomfortably. "I didn't have time to build you a basement, so I did the best I could," he said softly, feeling the lump growing to fill his throat as Gibbs' fingers caressed the smooth grain of the wood. He watched as the other man slowly and reverently placed both items atop the sweatshirt then turned to him with searching eyes.

The fingers of Gibbs' good hand found their way without hesitation into the soft hair at the back of Tony's head as he stepped close and drew him into a loose embrace.

Tony didn't know what in the hell was happening but he wasn't about to argue. The feel of Gibbs' palm at his nape, of the other man's body pressed warm and solid against him, brought satisfaction and relief he didn't even know he'd been craving. Mindful of Gibbs' injuries, he placed his hands gingerly on Jethro's hips and let the moment happen. He felt dampness against his neck, felt the warmth of Gibbs' breath against his jaw, his throat, his pulse.

"Thank you, Tony." Gibbs whispered brokenly, lips pressed tight to the curve of his ear.

A few moments later they separated a bit gracelessly, and Tony had to swipe quickly at his own eyes to keep his emotions in check. "The uh…the sheets are clean and everything. I wasn't sure how many pillows you would need but there are a few extra in the closet if you want more. Let me just…" Tony moved to pull back the covers and then turned to Gibbs. "What else can I do?"

"Think you've done more than enough, Tony. Just give me a hand getting in?"

Gibbs actually asking for his help caught Tony by surprise and he nodded lamely as Gibbs sat on the edge of the bed with a wince.

He waited as Tony slid his shoe off and helped him swing both legs up onto the bed with minimal bending of his upper body.

"Ribs?" Tony guessed as Gibbs drew a hissing breath at the movement.

"Hurt like a son of a bitch. I'd give up breathing right now if I could, but I've hurt worse." He let Tony help arrange pillows behind him so that he was semi-propped up.

"Sure you don't want something stronger for the pain? You've got a whole pharmacy out there." If Gibbs was showing this much discomfort, Tony knew he must be in agony.

Jethro shook his head. "Meds will kick in in a minute. Like having my head clear for now." He relaxed back with a deep groan and closed his eyes.

"I'll just be in the other room if you need anything." Tony's eyes raked down Gibbs' body, reluctant to give up the undeniably pleasant sight of him in his new bed.

"Stay for a minute?" Gibbs' voice was tired and his eyes only half-opened, but the request was clear.

"If you want me to." Tony moved closer to the side of the bed, unsure exactly what was being asked of him.

"Here." Jethro's hand moved to the spot on his other side atop the mattress.

"You sure? I don't want to move the bed. You almost look comfortable." Gibbs' face definitely looked more peaceful than Tony had seen it in the last few days.

"More comfortable when you're close. Hurts less," Gibbs said sleepily.

Mind reeling from the shock of that casual admission, Tony moved slowly around the bed and crawled up to settle on his side a respectable distance from Gibbs. "This okay?"

"Fine." Gibbs' eyes remained closed.

Tony was almost certain Gibbs had fallen asleep until he spoke again a moment later.

"You gonna tell me what's with this bed, Tony?"

A dozen witty retorts and half-truths ran through Tony's head. "Sometimes you need a change," he answered softly, watching Gibbs' face for any reaction.

Jethro turned his head slowly and contemplated Tony through half-lidded eyes. "Sometimes you do." Gibbs' hand found Tony's atop the sheet and twined their fingers loosely as his eyes drifted shut.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tony was in trouble.

He woke with a start to a semi-dark room after clearly dosing off despite his best intentions. Tony had no idea how long he'd slept, but judging by the deep amber color of the light, it must have been at least two hours since Gibbs had so casually taken his hand and drifted off to sleep.

His hand was cold now, Gibbs' fingers gone, but he could tell by the way the mattress sloped away on one side that he was not alone. Raising his head, Tony found slightly sleepy blue eyes studying him from a few inches away.

Bolting upright, Tony came fully awake in an instant. "Sorry, Gibbs. Didn't mean to fall asleep on you." He was off the bed and on his feet before the words finished falling from his lips.

"'S okay. You needed to sleep. So did I." Gibbs didn't move. He merely watched Tony fidget nervously around the room.

"But I shouldn't have. Not in your bed." Tony was talking and words were coming out but his mind was racing with the thought that this was Gibbs in his bed. A bed Tony had been in himself until a moment ago.

"Seems like there was more than enough room. Slept better than I have in days." Gibbs stretched as much as his body would allow. "That a problem for you?"

Tony's feet were suddenly rooted to the hardwood. "It's not a problem for you?" he asked incredulously.

"No," Gibbs said steadily, "it's not."

They watched each other across the intervening space. A thousand questions were rolling around Tony's brain but he couldn't bring himself to ask them. Not yet. "It's late," he muttered when he trusted his words again. "I should probably get us some dinner."

Gibbs let the diversion hang there a moment and finally nodded, pushing himself up awkwardly from the mound of his pillows. "Dinner would be good," he agreed, allowing the discussion of sleeping arrangements to come to a close for the time being.

Tony kept dinner simple. Steak and potatoes, done just the way Gibbs liked. Tony didn't have a fireplace that was good for cooking, but he'd learned to adapt with a cast-iron pan and gas stove and Gibbs didn't seem to have any problem bolting it down. He had rolled his eyes just a bit when Tony'd delivered the meat pre-cut to avoid watching him struggle with his splinted hand.

It seemed odd to be eating at a table. So often they sat side by side on Gibbs' living room couch, or hunched over plates while leaning against the kitchen counter. Now he had time to watch, had time to become mesmerized by the way Gibbs' full lips curled almost delicately around his fork, how the muscles of his jaw stretched, and the long column of his throat bobbed with each bite. Tony's mouth was watering and he was pretty sure it wasn't entirely due to the food.

The silence that had been happily filled with the sound of scraped plates and chewing grew heavier as their plates were emptied. Once Tony had cleared away the slim remnants, it was Gibbs who took the lead.

"Suppose we should probably have that talk before things go too much further," Jethro announced without preamble.

The words stopped Tony in his tracks as he came out of the kitchen and the irony that it would be Gibbs to say them was not at all lost. "We don't have to. It can wait."

"Don't think it can. And I don't want it to."

Tony's dinner was threatening to make a rapid exit and he swallowed hard, trying to calm his churning gut. He swallowed the dryness in his mouth and nodded, waiting for Gibbs as they moved into the living room.

Gibbs chose a spot in the center of the couch leaving Tony no choice but to go to either side. He pulled in the ottoman so Gibbs could prop up his leg and then hugged the arm rest as he awkwardly settled into his own position, body turned toward Jethro.

Tony had never seen Gibbs nervous before but there was no denying that the other man seemed slightly more fidgety than normal. He watched as Gibbs rubbed the palm of his open hand against his jeans as if drying it, picked at an imagined piece of lint on the back of the couch, and finally looked anywhere but at Tony before finally clearing his throat.

"I may have gotten hit on the head, and I may have passed out a few times, but I remember the important parts about the other night, Tony. Don't think I would forget about that." Gibbs head came up as the words settled between them. So much for easing into things. Gibbs had just chosen to dive right into the deep end.

"Think part of me was hoping you might," Tony admitted.

"Meant what I said," Gibbs said simply. "Know you did too. And don't try to blow it off as some adrenalin-fueled, heat-of-the-moment bullshit. We know each other too well for that."

Leave it to Gibbs to call his bluff before he could even make it. "I did mean it. Wish I'd had the balls to tell you before you almost went and died on me though."

"Wish I'd had the balls to tell you I already knew," Gibbs answered quietly.

As awed as he was by Gibbs' candor and the rapid-fire way he kept dropping little bombs that shook his very foundations, Tony found that his eyes kept drifting invariably to Jethro's mouth every time the other man spoke. He licked his lips unconsciously and tried to steer his mind away from the feel of that little parcel of skin against his own and the taste that still inhabited his memory. Talk. This moment was about talking.

"I would have died in that house if you hadn't come when you did, Tony. Don't think I don't know it and don't think I'll ever forget it." Gibbs' hand came to rest lightly against Tony's thigh. "But if something more comes out of it, I can't say I'm completely sorry it had to happen."

"I kissed you," Tony blurted out. The warmth of Jethro's hand through thick denim sent his head spinning and his lips moving before he had a chance to even think about what he was saying.

"Excuse me?" Gibbs looked at Tony as if he had just grown a third head.

"I kissed you, Gibbs. Back in the house? I mean, I'm not even sure if it counts because you weren't exactly conscious at the time and I just…"

"You just kissed me?" Jethro finished incredulously.

"Yeah." Tony drew back as far as he could from Gibbs without actually moving off the couch and waited.

"And what the hell are you doing now?" If Gibbs was confused by Tony's sudden admission he seemed doubly confused by his current behavior.

"Uh…waiting for you to hit me? Or maybe kill me?" Tony looked at Gibbs through a half open eye, still flinching.

"Jesus, I'm not gonna hit you, Tony. Relax." Jethro ran a hand through his hair and huffed out a deep breath.

"You're not?" Tony relaxed, but reluctantly, assuming this must be some kind of clever ruse on Gibbs' part.

"No."

"And no killing either? Not even when I'm sleeping later? It was just a spur of the moment thing, Gibbs, and I swear I'll never do it again. I just thought you might be…well, I thought you might be dying and…" Tony really wanted to stop his mouth from moving but he didn't seem to have the ability right now.

"How?" Gibbs interrupted.

"How, what?" Tony blinked at him.

"How did you kiss me?"

"How did I..? Why the hell does that matter? I just did it. And I'm really sorry. Did I mention how sorry I was?" This had to be the most bizarre moment of his life. Had to.

"Show me." The instruction was steady and clear.

"Show you..?" Tony's head felt thick and muddled. Surely Gibbs couldn't be asking him what it sounded like he was asking him.

"Show me how you kissed me," Jethro's voice was deep and heavy, laced with desire and more than a hint of curiosity and amusement.

"Like, on my hand or something?" The world was spinning. Tony really needed the world to stop spinning.

"On my mouth, for Christ sake, DiNozzo. You need a written invitation? Or maybe I should just pass out again." Gibbs hadn't moved but his body language was somehow more relaxed, more open than it had been. An invitation of sorts all on its own.

"Is this a trick?" Tony asked with wary, narrowed eyes. He wanted desperately to believe this was happening but his mind simply refused to accept.

"No tricks. Just hardly seems fair that you got to have a kiss I can't even remember." He placed his hand back on Tony's thigh.

"Well, I suppose when you put it that way…" Tony started with a smile of playboy bravado but it quickly wilted under the heat in Gibbs' eyes. Oh. 

Leaning forward somewhat awkwardly and completely unsure what to do with his hands, Tony placed an arm over the back of the couch to support himself, figuring it was probably the safest bet at the moment. His body tensed as he moved closer…closer…mere inches from Gibbs' face now. The other man hadn't moved but remained passive, lips slightly parted in apparent anticipation. At the last second Tony closed his eyes, closed the distance, and prayed.

If kissing Gibbs while he was unconscious had been memorable, kissing him while he was awake, soft and welcoming, and oh so warm was absolutely dizzying. Tony tried to keep in mind the seriousness of that first embrace, to keep his hands from finding their way automatically into Gibbs' hair, but as Jethro's breath ghosted across his lips, the hand against his thigh crept just that much higher, control was a hard won thing.

Keeping a tight grip on his racier impulses, Tony brushed his lips gently across Gibbs' mouth in a few tender yet fairly chaste sweeps and then drew back just enough to gauge Jethro's reaction.

"That how you kiss a dying man?" Gibbs muttered hotly against his open mouth, fingers curling against Tony's thigh.

"You had something else in mind?" Tony asked breathlessly, unable to keep the corners of his lips from turning up just slightly or his cock from thickening in his jeans.

Gibbs gave a surprisingly needy grunt and pressed his hand up over Tony's stomach to clasp the loose material of his shirt and pull him close. The collision of their mouths was more forceful this time, though Tony was clearly being mindful of his injuries and holding back.

When Tony felt the soft velvet of Gibbs' tongue brush his lips, he opened obediently, sank into the inviting heat of Jethro's mouth, and finally let his fingers wander where they wanted. The velvety stubble at Gibbs' nape drew his fingertips like a magnet as did the cut of his jaw, the perfect shell of his ear, the throb of his pulse. Tony wanted touch on a grander scale but he would settle for this micro-universe for the moment as long as it meant Gibbs kept kissing him like he was the most delicious feast he'd every devoured.

Blood pounded in Tony's ears and his cock had gone from shyly interested to painfully hard the moment Gibbs' fingers had slipped between the buttons of his shirt and found his heated skin. He was so caught up in it that he couldn't stop the little noise of disappointment that escaped when Jethro suddenly pulled back.

"The door," Gibbs murmured against Tony's open mouth, still nipping playfully at his lips.

"What door?" He swiped his nose against Jethro's cheek.

"Your door. Someone's knocking." Gibbs finally pulled away with obvious reluctance, smiling as his eyes lit on Tony's lap and the noticeable bulge beneath the stiff denim.

"They'll go away." Tony leaned forward toward Gibbs again even as the insistent pounding resumed.

"Doesn't seem so." Gibbs was far too amused by what was happening for Tony's liking.

With a deep sigh, Tony pushed himself up off the couch. "No moving until I get rid of them," he said pointedly to Gibbs.

"Not going anywhere. You might want to…" Gibbs gestured toward Tony's obscenely protruding erection.

Blushing furiously, Tony adjusted himself as best as he could, succeeding only in adding to Gibbs' obvious entertainment. Giving up and untucking his shirt, he moved toward the entryway where light but persistent knocking continued intermittently. "Coming," he called, scowling at Gibbs with an 'I hope you're happy' look as he nearly tripped up the landing in his befuddlement.

"This had really better be good," Tony muttered under his breath as he yanked the door open.

Shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continued thanks for all of your support!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again for all the fine comments and compliments. We loved reading your guesses about the surprise guest! I think we even had a correct guesser!

****

“Hey neighbor.” Brian’s four alarm smile widened as he greeted Tony from where his six foot two inch frame leaned casually against the door jam.

“Oh…hey.” Tony fought the urge to look back into the apartment and gauge Gibbs’ reaction to his inopportune visitor. His mind kicked into action as a deep wave of guilt swept through him and made his hardon a distant memory. In all of the tumult, he’d pushed the scooter and its quietly sexy owner to the very back of his mind. “Listen, I know I should have called you sooner. I was going to. I’m really sorry.”

Brian held up his hand to dismiss his apology. “Got a call from an impound lot in Alexandria where they took vehicles that had to be cleared away for the clean-up. Everything’s fine. Sounds like you took good care of her. Honestly I was more worried about you. Glad to see you’re alright.” His concern seemed genuine.  “I _may_ have been worried enough to look for your name in the hospital’s patient registry. Was relieved when I didn’t find it. Then your neighbor across the hall just happened to mention you’d been brought home yesterday and I thought I would come and see for myself.”

“I was at Bethesda,” Tony offered, not even sure why the information was important.

“But you’re okay?” Brian went from relaxed to apparent doctor mode.

“Some bruises. Staples in my leg from a cut. Nothing permanent.” Tony shrugged. He really wanted this conversation over fast. “So really, we’re good with the scooter?”

“I just need to get down there before the end of the week, pay a couple fines, and I’ll have her back on the road for the rest of the summer,” Brian answered.

“I’ll take care of all the fines. And any damages. Really, I owe you at least that much.” Tony truly was grateful and he couldn’t help feeling like he’d totally taken advantage of the situation to suit his own ends.

“Did it help you get to that friend you were so worried about? Was he alright?”  

“It did. And he is, but it was a close call. He might not have been if it wasn’t for you. I mean that.” Tony realized he owed Brian a hell of a lot more than a thank you and some fines.

“Then it was worth it. Listen, I don’t want to keep you. Just wanted to check and see if you were okay. Maybe I could give you a hand with a few things if you need it? Been a long time since I gave a patient a sponge bath but I’m pretty sure I could remember with the proper motivation.” Brian flirted hopefully, making no attempt to hide his perusal down the length of Tony’s body.

“I’ve got friends helping me, but I’ll keep that in mind.” Tony wanted to kick himself for even halfway flirting in return but it was flirting on instinct rather than with intent. It was too much a part of who he was to rein it in completely. “My friend…my boss, actually, is staying here for a while. His house was pretty much totaled. So really, I’m fine.” He wanted nothing more than to get rid of Brian and get back to Gibbs but he felt like a shit just blowing him off.

“Oh.” Brian deflated just a little. “Well, whenever you’re feeling up to it, I’d still like to collect on that dinner. Think we’d have a good time together. And I’ve been told I’m a hell of a cook. Besides, I’d love to hear your heroic tale of rescue.” His eyes lit up.

“Dinner, right.” Tony tried to think of a way to politely decline but he honestly had no idea what was going on with Gibbs and his sense of obligation to the complete stranger who had stepped in to help save his life was weighing pretty heavily. “That sounds…that sounds great,” he said finally, tongue flying in the face of his better instincts.

“I’m off early night after tomorrow. Is that too soon?” It was clear Brian was trying his best not to sound over enthusiastic but he was failing pretty miserably. Under different circumstances Tony might have found his eager puppy dog eyes endearing, maybe even a little hot, considering the promises riding just below their surface, but for now he was just really uncomfortable.

“No. That’s good. Should I bring something?” There was no harm in polite. He could do polite.

“Just an appetite. Does six work for you?”

“Don’t think I’ll be cleared to go back to work for a few more days so, sure, six it is.” Tony considered this the end of the conversation but Brian still seemed to be waiting for something more.

“I’d invite you in for a drink or something but…”

“But you’ve got company,” Brian finished with a nod and then flashed that dazzling grin again. “I’ll see you Wednesday, Tony.”

Tony couldn’t miss the fact that Brian sauntered when he turned and walked back down the hall. The man might be unassuming in his sexiness but he was damn well aware of it. Taking a deep breath, he brought his head back to what was important and slowly closed the door.

_Gibbs._

“I’m really sorry about that I didn’t…” Tony turned and quickly realized he was talking to an empty room. The implication of that hit him like a punch to the gut.

Since Gibbs couldn’t run away, there were only so many places he could have retreated to, and it didn’t take Tony long to rule out the bedroom and bathroom and follow the sound of running water to the darkened kitchen.

He found Gibbs against the island, hunched over the row of pill bottles. The slump of his shoulders spoke volumes. Tony held a hand out, wanted to touch, to resume the contact of a few moments ago even if it was in an innocent sweep of fingers down the curve of Gibbs’ spine, but he hesitated a few millimeters away from the caress, feeling the heat of the other man’s skin kissing his palm.

“Hey. Thought you said you weren’t going anywhere?” Tony kept the accusation out of it but not his disappointment.

“You have some friendly neighbors,” Gibbs said stiffly.

The flat tone immediately brought Tony’s hand back to his side. So, that was what had caused the little disappearing act. There was a tiny selfish part of him that thrilled to the jealousy it implied, but the larger part just wanted to fix it, and fast.

“Gibbs,” Tony said quietly. “He’s just my neighbor. He did me a favor. A big favor. A favor that is responsible for you standing in my kitchen right now, I might add.  But that’s all. I don’t know what you’re thinking, but whatever it is, it’s wrong.”

Gibbs took a shallow breath, another, didn’t move, didn’t turn, didn’t give. “You don’t have to explain yourself to me, Tony.” The words were tight, not angry exactly, but emotionally closed off.

“Seems like maybe I do, Jethro.” He chose the familiar deliberately. Tony was pretty sure making out on his couch gave him the right to at least that much tonight.

“Not feeling so great. Think maybe I over did things today. Gonna head to bed.” Gibbs handed Tony one of the more potent pain killers from the arrangement of meds. “Open this.” It wasn’t a question.

“Are you…should I call Ducky? You don’t have a fever or anything, do you?” He reached a hand out to Gibbs’ forehead and the mostly clinical touch was admitted with obvious reluctance. To Tony’s relief, the skin beneath his palm was cool.

Gibbs shrugged off the touch after a few brief seconds. “Just need to sleep. Put my leg up. I’ll see you in the morning.” He took the pain pills Tony offered as well as the dose of antibiotics he shook out into his hand after consulting Ducky’s notes.

Tony watched in frustration as Gibbs got a glass of water and headed for the bedroom without another word. He knew the other man well enough to quit while he was ahead, to let whatever was playing out in Jethro’s head settle for the night. He knew not to push.

_Jesus, he wanted to push._

It took everything Tony had not to follow, to wait the few minutes it took for Gibbs to complete his night time rituals and the slight creak of the bathroom door that announced his exit.

Tony did move then, moved soundlessly even on the leg that was definitely telling him he hadn’t rested enough today, and padded silently across the hardwoods and into the bedroom. He found Gibbs waiting at the edge of the bed in T-shirt and boxers, waiting for the help he’d known instinctively would come, waiting for the help Tony knew he resented in this moment, tonight so much more than earlier.

The room was dark but Tony flipped on the light on the nightstand, reached into the drawer where he’d tucked away some of the first aid supplies, and drew out what he would need.

“Just need to go to bed, Tony. That can wait until morning.” Gibbs’ tone hadn’t warmed at all since the kitchen.

“Ducky’s schedule says to do this before bed. I’m doing it before bed. You want to argue, argue with him, but if you want _me_ to tell him it didn’t get done properly, you’re gonna have to fight me and, no offense Gibbs, I’m pretty sure I could take you right now.”  Tony kept his voice light but held onto the blue of Gibbs’ eyes and made sure the other man knew he wasn’t backing down.

“Fine.” It was more of a grunt of acquiescence that a distinct pronunciation.

 “Okay.”

“Okay.”

“I need to lift up your shirt,” Tony said matter-of-factly.

“What the hell for?” This had at least broken Gibbs out of his deadpan act.

“I’m supposed to check for any swelling or inflammation around your ribs.” Tony waited wisely for approval.

Gibbs didn’t respond when Tony’s fingers moved tentatively for the thin fabric, but he didn’t stop him either.

Holding his breath without realizing it, Tony gingerly lifted the thin cotton up above Gibbs sternum and instantly felt his stomach clench. Jethro’s skin was a mass of yellow and purple bruises from chest to hip on one side and Tony suspected the discoloration went all the way to his shoulder and perhaps below the line of his boxers. “Gibbs.” His breath came out in a sigh of sympathy.

“Just get this over with, DiNozzo. And just…be careful.”

Tony was almost afraid to touch him. Gibbs might be the toughest bastard he knew, but no one could take this kind of a beating without some pretty serious pain. Gingerly and with the greatest care, he ran his fingers down the side of Gibbs’ body with the most damage, looking for anything out of the ordinary in comparison to the other side. Apart from the greater discoloration, he couldn’t find anything that looked emergent.  “Any pain when you’re breathing?”

“What the hell do you think,” Jethro growled.

“Any more pain than you’ve been having, I guess,” Tony quickly clarified, letting Gibbs’ t-shirt fall back into place.

“Not really,” Gibbs gave in grudgingly.

“Good. That’s good. So…I guess maybe get into bed and then I can do the rest?” He suggested.

“Fine.”

Tony’d been in enough shitty relationships to know that two “fines” in a short time period meant things were anything other than fine. Especially when those “fines” were coming from someone you were making out on your couch with a half hour ago.

After helping get Gibbs settled and propped semi-upright in bed, Tony made short work of re-dressing his leg and then moved to the bandages wrapped around his temple. His fingertips grazed lightly against Jethro’s skin as he bared the wound and dabbed at it with a clean piece of gauze. The stitches looked dry and, while Tony was no expert, it seemed to be closing up well. “Looks pretty good.” He tried to ignore the fact that Gibbs flinched from his touch just slightly.

“I heal quick.” Gibbs met his eyes for the space of just a few heartbeats but Tony couldn’t get a read on him.

“Gibbs.” Tony quietly tried to open the door that had been shut to him so quickly and deliberately earlier.

“Don’t. I just…not tonight.” There was a tiny space where the wall came down but it was back up again in the space of one breath. “Just finish up so I can try and get some sleep.”

Tony could see that Gibbs’ eyes were going a little glassy from the pain killers so he did as requested, securing a clean bandage around Gibbs’ temple with a minimum of fuss. “All done,” he announced gently as Jethro’s lids fell closed.

“Good, grab the light,” Gibbs murmured sleepily.

Snapping off the bedside lamp and tossing bandages and paper in the trash beside him, Tony waited for Gibbs to make a move, waited to see if an invitation would be extended as it had been earlier.

“See you in the morning, DiNozzo.” The dismissal was abrupt and clear.

Tony hesitated and then decided that he really didn’t have anything to lose. If he was lucky, maybe the pain killers would keep Gibbs from remembering this in the morning. “I know you’re pissed at me, or hurt, or confused, or whatever the hell you are right now, Jethro, but you shouldn’t be. You shouldn’t be because he’s just my neighbor, and more than that, he helped me save your life. So you can go to bed being a dick to me and beating yourself up for something you think is true, or you can think about what’s important.”

He took a deep breath.  He knew Gibbs was still with him, was still listening, but even if he wasn’t, Tony didn’t know if he could have stopped. “That kiss was _amazing_ , Jethro. I mean seriously hot. I’ve been thinking about that for so long… _so_ long, and you know what? It was better than I imagined. It was _better_. And I know you thought so too. So that’s what’s important to me. That’s what I’m going to lay awake thinking about tonight and that’s the memory I’m going to fall asleep to. Not all the shitty stuff that came after.”

Realizing his voice had gently crescendoed through this impromptu speech, Tony tried to get a grip on himself and bring it back under control. “So yeah, I’ll see you in the morning. And tomorrow you have to let me back in Gibbs. You have to.” His fingers brushed lightly against Jethro’s where they rested atop the bedspread as he took his leave. ”Because this is just too important.” The last words came out as a near whisper but the weight of them settled heavily in the ensuing silence.

 Not waiting any longer for a response and not expecting one tonight, Tony went quickly to the closet and retrieved the extra pillows and a blanket, then headed for the couch without a backward glance.

* * *

 

Tony woke to the sound of some sort of miniature avalanche in his kitchen followed by muffled cursing. Memory washed away the thin skin of his dreams and he wiped the sleep from his eyes, sitting up with a groan at his protesting muscles.

Padding into the kitchen, he was unsurprised to find Gibbs glaring daggers at his high-end coffee maker, as if the stare alone would force it to start brewing.

“Sorry. Should have programmed it last night,” Tony said around a bone-cracking yawn.

“How in the hell do you work this thing? And what are all these buttons for?” Gibbs growled. “I couldn’t even find your grinder. Was about to start chewing the damn beans.”

“Grinder’s in the top. Here, let me do it.” Tony moved in close, pressing Gibbs into the corner and leaving him without an obvious path of retreat.

“Nothing’s ever simple with you, is it?” Gibbs handed him the beans and Tony knew he must have noticed that he’d gone out of his way to get the special blend Jethro subsisted on most of the time.

“Only complicated if you want it to be,” Tony said as he poured the beans into the top chute and pressed the sole button on the top of the machine, setting off a high-pitched whirring and sending the delicious aroma of fresh-ground coffee to fill the air around them. “You put water in already?”

“That much I figured out.” Gibbs’ voice had lost some of its frostiness from the night before and Tony desperately hoped what remained was simply due to the other man’s lack of caffeination.

“Then you just press this,” Tony stabbed quickly at a button that said ‘Brew’ in bold letters, “and wait.” Gibbs hadn’t moved and he was close enough to feel the heat from the other man’s body.

“That simple, huh? Why have all this other crap, then?” His eyes glued longingly to the slowly rising line on the carafe even as he gestured to the panel of buttons on the front of the machine.

“Well, it makes espresso, cappuccino, a few other things I never took the time to learn. It gives you options.” He didn’t really care that the conversation was about something as inane as a coffee maker. At least it was conversation. “Just use it for coffee most mornings though. That part is simple.”

“Don’t need options, Tony. I know what I like. Once I figure it out, it doesn’t change much.” Gibbs’ palm was pressed flat to the countertop and Tony saw his fingers curl just a little, noted the tightness.

“We still talking about coffee, Jethro?” Tony asked quietly, eyes boring into the side of the other man’s head, willing him to turn.

Gibbs continued to stare at the line on the coffee pot, jaw muscles flexing, nostrils flaring with barely restrained tension.

Tony gave him time but it was clear no response was forthcoming. “He’s just my neighbor, Jethro. I don’t know what else to say to make you believe that.”

“He’s a neighbor you have a dinner date with tomorrow night.”

“Only because I owe him.”

“Not because he’s an easy option if figuring this out gets tough?” Gibbs did look at Tony then, blue eyes searching deep, burrowing inside.

Tony had never been in a spot like this with someone who knew the inside of his head so intimately, who knew what made him tick, what made him strong, and what made him scared. It was more than a little intimidating to realize exactly where Gibbs’ head had gotten to with Brian, what kind of lines he had drawn between Tony’s own history and insecurities and this would-be suitor. But regardless of just how insightful the conclusions and accusations might be, it didn’t change his firm answer. “He’s not.”

Gibbs didn’t move even though the coffee pot signaled that brewing was complete, but Tony thought he saw the other man’s shoulders drop a fraction of an inch now that Gibbs had said what he’d clearly needed to say and perhaps found enough honesty in his answer for momentary reassurance.

“He’s not, Jethro.” Tony risked laying a hand on Gibbs’ upper arm this time and was thankful when it wasn’t shrugged off. “I agreed to dinner before I knew that there was even a _possibility_ of something to work out between us. Hell, four days ago you were my boss and my friend that I had inconveniently developed inappropriate feelings for. Accepting a really big favor in return for a dinner date didn’t seem like that big of a deal. If I’d thought for one second that you’d even _care_ who I was having dinner with, I wouldn’t have agreed in the first place. But I did, and I owe him, and I’m not backing out of it now. Whatever the hell happens between us, you’re going to have to trust that dinner can be just dinner for me, no matter who it’s with.“

Tony pulled up to his full 6’2” and still felt like he was shrinking beneath the weight of Gibbs’ stare.

“You done?” Gibbs asked steadily, his tone at odds with the intensity of his gaze, though Tony thought he saw that puzzled curiosity creeping back in around its edges.

“Think so.” He’d done all he could do, said all that he could say. Anything more would be counterproductive to his point.

“So I can drink my coffee in peace, now?” Gibbs raised an eyebrow.

Tony fought the smile that tugged at the side of his mouth. This was a good sign.

“Guess so,” he answered.  Without letting his eyes stray from Gibbs’, Tony reached into a cupboard just behind the other man’s head, leaned in until their bodies were inches apart, mouths and lips far too close for comfort, and retrieved two oversized coffee mugs.

Gibbs didn’t shift, didn’t flinch, didn’t try to retreat from the close contact, but he didn’t move to touch either.

After lingering a few seconds longer than were necessary, a few more just for good measure, and a few more after that simply because he liked the way Gibbs’ skin smelled, Tony finally pulled back and set the cups on the counter.

Eyeing Tony a little warily, Gibbs filled a cup, and, after a moment of hesitation, filled the second one too. Hot coffee now in hand, he moved slowly out of the three-quarters cage created by the countertop and Tony’s body.

“Tony?”

He almost jumped out of his skin when Gibbs’ splinted hand came to rest lightly on his shoulder. “Yeah?” Tony asked hopefully.

“You need a shower.” Gibbs walked toward the dining room without another word, leaving Tony smiling in his wake.

* * *

 

“Well, it looks as if the two of you have survived the night at least. I’ll admit I had one or two doubts.” Ducky bustled into the apartment with a few bags under his arms including his leather medical kit.

They had survived. And now that they seemed to have come to at least a passing understanding over the very inconvenient interruption from the night before and Tony’s forthcoming dinner date, they’d settled into the kind of comfortable silence that had so often surrounded their time together at Gibbs’ home.

Tony’d cooked eggs and toast for breakfast. Nothing fancy, but it occurred to him that he knew how Gibbs liked his eggs as well as he knew how Gibbs took his coffee. Just two of the seemingly unimportant little details about the man he had gathered, sorted, and filed away over the years of their acquaintance.

At breakfast they’d divided up the morning paper, Tony taking the business section and Gibbs the sports page. It hadn’t taken Tony long to notice Gibbs squinting at the fine print and realize the several pairs of reading glasses he kept at work and around his house were all miles away. Tony’d made a quick excuse of checking the Yankees score from the night before and stolen the section, remarking aloud on scores he knew were important to Gibbs to save the other man the effort.

If nothing else, the move had led to a heated discussion about pitching replacements, the dismal Met’s season, and the expanding strike zone which had _almost_ felt like normal.

After breakfast, Gibbs had dug out the carving knife and wood that Tony had gotten for him and settled onto the couch, struggling to find the right technique with his injured hand but somehow managing to make it work.

Tony had decided a James Bond marathon of his own making was the perfect way to pass their enforced days off of work. They’d made it all the way to _Goldfinger_ with no complaints from Gibbs when Ducky’d called to say he was on his way over to check up on both of them.

All in all, it hadn’t been a bad day.

“Come on, Duck. Give us some credit,” Gibbs said around a wince as the ME poked and prodded. “I’m sure it will be at least another day until I’m ready to shoot him.”

Tony watched Ducky’s examination with interest, watched Gibbs’ chest expand and contract, expand and contract, as the ME listened to his lungs from different angles. His jaw twitched at every well concealed flinch from Jethro. Tony hated seeing him in pain even if it was necessary pain.

“I suppose you’re doing as well as can be expected, Jethro. I don’t see any marked inflammation and your lungs sound clear.” He packed away his stethoscope. “I’m quite impressed with the bandaging you’ve done here, Tony. Perhaps you missed a calling as a medical professional.”

“Think I’ll stick with chasing the bad guys, Ducky.” He quickly moved his gaze elsewhere when Gibbs caught him watching a little too intently.

“Yes, about that,” Ducky said tentatively. “Once I’m able to remove the staples from Tony’s wound I can clear him to return to work on restricted duty. Unfortunately, Jethro, with the injuries to your ribs, I’m afraid it will likely be at least another week, perhaps more before I’ll feel comfortable with you even sitting at a desk and reading files for a day.”

“You can’t keep me prisoner here, Duck. I came back to work three days after getting shot in the shoulder,” Gibbs argued.

“Yes, and in that case we could sew the tissues back together and immobilize your arm, Jethro. I can’t splint your ribs without risk of pneumonia, and if you’re chasing down the Director and running back and forth to the lab all day, they’ll never heal properly,” the ME explained with only a touch of exasperation, knowing a quarrel with Gibbs was likely pointless.

Gibbs didn’t argue further but it was clear his brain was already working out some way to go around Ducky’s restrictions.

“If there’s nothing else I can do for either of you this afternoon, I’ve promised a full report to your team in order to keep them from beating down your door.” Ducky began to assemble his bags. 

“Think we’ll make it another night,” Gibbs caught Tony’s eye.

“Then I shall see you both tomorrow. And with any luck at all, Timothy will have some news about your house by then. You’d be very proud of both he and Ziva, Jethro. The two of them make a surprisingly formidable team when necessary.” Ducky donned his hat, a ubiquitous accessory even in the summer heat.

“Never had a doubt, Duck.”

Gibbs had remained seated on the couch and for the first time in the last hour, Tony felt his presence was actually useful as he saw the other man to the door

* * *

 

“No.”

“You need help, Gibbs.”

“It’s just a damn shower, Tony. I’ve taken a million of them.”

“Not with your leg in a cast, your hand in a splint, and four cracked ribs. I’m not going to be the one to tell Ducky you punctured a lung because you were being a big baby,” Tony said with just a touch of impatience and a momentary pang of anxiety that the ‘big baby’ comment was a little over the top. They were revisiting Gibbs’ aversion to the shower chair and, more specifically, Tony’s assistance, for the fourth time today. Tony had brought up the necessity of showering several times and Gibbs had shrugged him off with a ‘later’ on each occasion. Now it _was_ later and Tony was really ready to get the whole process over with so they could get on to the next argument.

Silence greeted him from the other side of the closed bathroom door for a few moments, followed by the tiny click of the lock unlatching. Tony took a deep breath and grasped the knob, pushing into the room slowly and cautiously. He found Gibbs leaning against the counter in boxers and his t-shirt, holding the large plastic bag and accompanying rubber band which Ducky had supplied to cover his cast.

“Couldn’t get the damn thing on,” Gibbs grumbled, pushing the bag toward Tony.

“It’s okay, I can do it.” He stayed where he was, waited for Gibbs to be more comfortable with his presence in the room. In truth, Tony was freaking the hell out about sharing this mundane yet wholly intimate act with Gibbs. He was trying his best to keep a more clinical mindset about it, to think ‘what would Ducky do?’ but every time he thought of his hands sliding across bare, wet flesh, his thoughts were anything but clinical.

“How do you want to do this?” Gibbs head jerked toward the shower.

“I guess you should probably take off your, uh, your clothes.” Tony gestured to Jethro’s top and bottom halves in turn, willing the blood not to rush to his face.

“What about you?” Gibbs slowly began to work his t-shirt over his head, moving and bending minimally.

“What about me?” Tony’s head came up quick.

“You gonna get in the shower in your jeans?” Gibbs looked more amused than pissed now.

“Already showered today.” _Naked. In the shower. With Gibbs_. The thought was both tantalizing and terrifying but with the added complication of both their injuries, it was likely to be downright frustrating.

“So you’ll get another one. You know how many Marines I’ve showered with in my time, Tony? You really think you’ve got something I haven’t seen before? Besides, not like I haven’t seen you naked a dozen times in the locker rooms.”

“Yeah, but that was before,” Tony argued without thinking.

“Before, what?”

“Before you kissed the hell out of me on my living room couch, Jethro.” The words just came tumbling out and Tony wished he could reel them back in. Nothing like giving Gibbs a little more ammunition.

“Don’t think either of us is up for shower sex today, Tony. Doubt you have anything to worry about.” Gibbs smirked, actually _smirked_ at the fact that Tony’s jaw was nearly on the ground.

The fact that Gibbs’ mind had gone there, _there_ , so nonchalantly had Tony’s hands shaking just a little as he unwound the gauze from Gibbs’ forehead and gently helped remove the splint from his injured wrist.

He carefully removed and folded his own jeans and sweatshirt, set them on the counter next to Gibbs’ clothes and watched out of the corner of his eye as Jethro carefully sloughed off his boxers and took a seat in the shower.

Tony grabbed the bag and rubber band from the counter, leaving his own final layer of clothing on until after this bit was finished. Once in the shower he removed the hand-held nozzle from its mount and turned on the water to let it warm up. As he knelt down to cover Gibbs’ cast, he was immensely grateful that the other man had draped a hand towel across his lap, whether out of some sense of modestly or for Tony’s comfort. Gibbs caught his eyes as he stood.

“You don’t have to do this, Tony,” he said quietly, speaking just above the sound of the running water.

“I know.” Tony’s fingers ghosted over Gibbs’ shoulder as he stepped over the tiled lip of the stall and through the still-open glass door.

With a last deep breath, Tony removed the remainder of his clothing and moved back to the shower where swirling eddies of steam were beginning to gather. He was careful to stay behind Gibbs, not trusting his eyes to stick to the safer parts of the other man’s body and definitely not trusting his cock to behave if Gibbs started looking. Not quite sure where to start, he silently tested the water against his arm and adjusted the temperature until it felt comfortable.

“Guess I should probably work from the top down, huh?” Tony reached for the bottle of shampoo on the corner shelf and poured a small bit into his hand.

“Makes sense.” Gibbs kept staring straight ahead.

“Might want to close your eyes for this part. Don’t think I’ve ever washed someone’s hair before.” Tony carefully dampened the top of Gibbs’ head and worked his fingers gently into the silver strands, mindful of his injuries. A few seconds into the process, he froze at a deep groan from Gibbs.

“Don’t stop. Feels good. First real shower I’ve had in days.” He hummed in obvious pleasure as Tony’s fingertips worked against his scalp.

Tony was concentrating really hard on top of Gibbs’ head and trying desperately to remember to breathe, but the sounds Jethro was making had his cock swelling despite his best efforts. The brush of his fingertips over the curve of Gibbs’ ear might have been a bit more drawn out than necessary, and perhaps the way he lingered at the juncture of his neck and shoulders wasn’t helping things, but he was addicted to the moans and groans each sweep of his hands elicited.

Finally, Tony rinsed the soap down  Gibbs’ back and down the drain, then grabbed for one of the towels he’d slung over the shower door, using it to blot the stitches dry. Thus far, he’d managed to avoid getting his own wounds damp and he began to wonder if Gibbs insistence that he remove his clothes was simply a clever ruse to get him naked.

“Okay?” Tony inquired.

“Okay,” Gibbs confirmed.

If the top of Gibbs’ head had been fraught with temptation, moving on to his back was an exercise in restraint. Gibbs angled as far forward as his ribs would comfortably let him, and Tony saw that the mottled bruising from his chest wrapped all the way around his torso and colored the broad expanse of his back.

“Tell me if I hurt you.” Tony’s jaw was tight as he ran a soapy washcloth over the seemingly endless acres of smooth of skin. His fingers were absolutely itching to touch, to explore, to trace the curve of Gibbs’ spine, the arch of his lower back, but his fear kept him in check. Mostly. As he neared the end it was impossible not to give in to the desire to chase the soapy trails over Gibbs’ shoulder blades and down his flanks. He kept his touch light, undemanding, but he felt muscle flutter and bunch beneath his fingertips despite his gentleness.

Gibbs sat up and put an end to Tony’s explorations. “Think I can do the front.” His voice had a tight quality Tony didn’t recognize.

He handed the washcloth to Gibbs over his shoulder and tried to will his very interested cock back into submission. Ducky was wrong. Tony would have made a terrible nurse.

“Can’t reach this leg.” Gibbs’ frustrated tone brought Tony out of his head a moment later.

Tony tried to come up with some excuse, _any_ excuse, that would save him the humiliation he was about to endure. “I’ve, uh…I’ve got a little situation back here, Gibbs.” The heat in his cheeks towered over the heat of the shower.

“Well get over it so we can get this done.” Gibbs passed the washcloth back to him.

He wanted Gibbs. Tony knew there was nothing to be ashamed about in that. He just wished his libido had better timing. With a stiff and bobbing erection that didn’t seem to be going anywhere anytime soon and his shoulders back, Tony stepped into Gibbs line of sight and dropped his hands to his sides. “Sorry, Jethro.” He managed not to sound sheepish about it. “Hurt or not, my body knows it’s you.”

Gibbs’ eyes darkened and raked over Tony from shoulders to hips. “Don’t ever apologize to me for that again,” he said tightly, pulling the wet, heavy towel from his lap to reveal his own cock, long, thickened and twitching restlessly against his thigh.

“Jethro.” Tony’s hand curled around the washcloth in his grip as his belly muscles tightened with a flush of desire so strong he actually took a step toward Gibbs before he could stop himself.

“We can’t.” Gibbs shook his head as his fingers ghosted over his ribs as if reminding himself of the need for restraint. “Doesn’t mean it’s not on my mind, Tony. Hurt or not, my body knows it’s you.” He echoed the other man’s words from a moment before.

Doing his very best to keep from grinning like an idiot, and holding a tight grip on his baser instincts, Tony dropped to his knees on the tile and made short work of reaching the spots Gibbs’ injuries prevented him getting to on his own. When his fingers snuck a little further up a well-muscled thigh than was absolutely necessary, Gibbs didn’t stop him, but as the other man’s breathing picked up, he was quickly reminded of the need for caution and pulled back to help Gibbs stand.

“Last bit.” Tony moved in close, soap laden hand moving over Gibbs’ hip. He kept his body angled slightly away, kept just a bare inch of space between them. He hesitated then, waited to see if Gibbs would stop him from taking this last liberty, but no protest was forthcoming.

Tony’s hands circled Jethro’s waist, skated over the softly furred skin of his firm bottom and began to move in slow circles. He could tell Gibbs was fighting to control his breathing, could feel the other man’s uninjured hand skim his hip and sink into the muscle of his ass.

“This the change you had in mind?” Gibbs mouthed the words against the damp curve of Tony’s ear. He moved just a hair closer, closed the distance enough rub his dick up and down against Tony’s erection in teasing invitation.

 

Tony’s fingers curled, sending the soap clattering to the floor and skittering into the distant corner. He bent his head to growl his frustration against Gibbs’ neck. “Not fair,” he choked out.

“I know.” Gibbs finally pulled away.

“We’re not gonna fight about showers anymore, are we?” Tony rinsed them both, turned off the water and handed Gibbs a towel.

“Don’t think we are, no.” Gibbs’ smile lit up the small space even through the steam.

“Good. Because I kind of like this arrangement. Not the sexual frustration part, obviously, but the rest. The rest was pretty nice.”

“It was,” Gibbs agreed. There was just the slightest hesitation and he appeared to struggle with something momentarily before shaking it off. “You coming?” He asked as he carefully picked up his clothes under one arm and headed for the door.

Tony hesitated just outside the stall of the shower looking a little uncomfortable. “I’ll be there. I, uh…I just need a couple minutes to take care of this.” He gestured awkwardly to the un-waned erection that tented his towel.

Gibbs’ amused laughter followed him out the door.  

* * *

 

When Tony joined Gibbs in the bedroom, it was impossible not to miss the tiredness around his eyes.

“You take the pills?” Tony had laid out Gibbs’ antibiotics as well as the stronger dose of pain meds he seemed to prefer to help him sleep.

“Yeah.” Gibbs was waiting beside the bed, having somehow managed to get into clean underclothes on his own.

What sent a tiny thrill through Tony’s very recently self-pleasured body, was the fact that Gibbs had already taken the time to turn down both sides of the bed. It was an invitation he would accept gladly.

Tony re-dressed all of Gibbs’ wounds and helped the other man into bed. He colored at a few passing jabs from Jethro about his inability to wholly suppress the ecstatic moans of pleasure which had filtered through the bathroom door when he came into his slicked-up fist thinking about Gibbs’ cock sliding over his own.

When Tony finally flipped off the light, each one of his muscles felt heavy and he was thankful that Gibbs’ eyes had already fallen closed. Tony crawled carefully up onto the mattress and settled into the position beside Gibbs which had felt so right the day before.

He was just about to drift off when Jethro’s voice dragged him back. “You’re right. This is important.”

So Gibbs had been listening last night. “I think so,” Tony agreed.

“Are you still having dinner with him tomorrow?” The words were flat with barely concealed pain.

“Gibbs…” Tony opened his eyes to find Gibbs gazing at him in the darkness. He couldn’t do this now, didn’t want to go to sleep having this fight again, but the hurt from the other man sent his heart into his throat.

“Goodnight, Tony.” Gibbs voice wasn’t exactly cold, but it was certainly dismissive and he turned away as abruptly as his tender ribs would allow.

“Goodnight, Jethro.” Tony echoed quietly, wanting desperately to reach out but understanding that the door was closed for the night. They’d made progress today, miles of it, and there was always tomorrow to try again.


	12. Chapter 12

****

Despite the powerful narcotic that made sound, pain-free sleep possible, Gibbs still woke with the breaking daylight. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and sighed when he felt the warm body next to him stir before settling back into slumber. Frowning down at Tony, Gibbs wanted to head-slap himself for being an ass.

He just had to bring up Tony's impending date and throw cold water on what had ended up being a most enjoyable day. They had survived Ducky's relatively brief visit no worse for wear, and then spent the rest of the afternoon just enjoying being in each other's company. Then, after much pestering and nagging from Tony, things became sexually charged in the shower.

Gibbs smiled at the memory. While he hated needing help with the simple act of showering, a naked Tony lending a hand turned it into a very pleasurable experience. It did his ego a world of good knowing that even as battered, bruised and broken as he was, Tony still wanted him. Seeing Tony standing before him with a raging hard on had nearly been his undoing, not that he could do anything about it.

He wanted to touch and taste what was being so freely and unabashedly offered, and it took all of his self-control not to move things along too fast. As much as he wanted to take Tony in his arms and kiss him senseless under the soothing spray, shower-time shenanigans would have to wait. He had settled for a little teasing, wanting to let Tony know in no uncertain terms that his need and desire for him was just as great. The jolt of electricity he felt when their soap slicked cocks slid against one another for those few brief seconds was powerful.

Hearing a snort as Tony stirred again, Gibbs cocked his head and studied him while he slept, lying on his back with his left hand resting on his stomach and his right arm flung lazily up over his head. Spikes of chestnut hair stuck out at odd angels and long, dark lashes fanned out from eyelids concealing the green eyes dancing beneath them. Tony managed to look both wanton and innocent, and Gibbs fingers itched to explore. He watched the steady rise and fall of Tony's broad, well-defined chest. The dark nipples poking at the thin cotton t-shirt he wore were just begging to be kissed and nibbled. Tony's full lips twitched in concert with a series of distressed mumbles.

'Figures he even talks in his sleep,' Gibbs thought as he carefully threw off the covers, not wanting to disturb Tony, but needing to put some distance between himself and temptation. The plan was a quick trip to the head to take care of nature's call, followed by coffee, but before he could make a clean escape Tony rolled onto his side and flung a strong arm across his belly. With the greatest of care, Tony pulled himself over and snuggled in close. Gibbs covered Tony's hand with his and patted it gently, feeling a wave of affection wash over him.

"Where 'ya goin?" Tony asked around a yawn, looking up at him with sleepy green eyes.

Gibbs' heart fluttered in his chest. He was in trouble. "Need the head – then coffee."

Tony pouted but obediently rolled onto his back releasing Gibbs from the gentle hold he had of him. He blindly reached for his phone on the nightstand – it was only 0705.

"M'kay. I'll make us some breakfast," Tony said mid-stretch.

Gibbs held his ribs as he swung his legs over the side of the bed. He stood and took a couple of steps before stopping to admire Tony's form as he stretched every inch of his six-foot two frame. Vertebrae popped causing Tony to groan with relief. His t-shirt rode up just enough for Gibbs to get a peek of the well-defined six-pack hidden beneath the thin cotton, and the dark strip of hair that headed to promising points to the south. Gibbs swallowed hard and his dick twitched in his shorts.

Catching him drinking in the view, Tony teased, "Like what you see?"

Gibbs, not known to possess the ability to blush, felt heat rising on his cheeks. Oh, he most definitely liked it! He watched as Tony rolled out of bed and gracefully sauntered over to him.

"Don't I at least get a good morning kiss," Tony challenged playfully.

Gibbs cocked a half-smirk at Tony before reeling him in for much more than a chaste good morning kiss. Morning breath be damned.

Over a light breakfast of oatmeal with blueberries and wheat toast slathered with authentic homemade cherry butter from the local farmer's market, Tony pulled the sports section from the morning Washington Post and handed the rest of the paper to Gibbs. The reading glasses Ducky has procured for him the day before weren't quite the correct prescription, but Gibbs was able to manage the small print with only a slight squint to bring the words into clearer focus.

They had purposefully avoided watching the news on TV. Even several days removed, storm coverage still trumped all other news even though there was nothing new to report. Stock footage taken immediately after the storms played in a near constant loop, which only served to reopen emotional wounds. Thankfully, the death toll had peaked at eight. Property damage estimates, however, continued to climb.

Gibbs wanted to join the throngs of people being allowed to return to their homes to recover possessions and assess the damage. He tried to convince Tony to drive him home, ostensibly to meet with the insurance adjuster he had called yesterday, but Tony wouldn't hear of it.

"You realize Ducky would kill us both, right? Gibbs, I know you want to go there. So do I, but McGee and Ziva are all over it. We'd only be in the way. Let them do this for you," Tony admonished.

Just then, a cacophony of video arcade noises blared from Tony's cell phone, which sat charging on the kitchen counter. "It's McGee," Tony announced before hobbling over to answer it. "Yeah Probie."

Gibbs paid rapt attention to Tony's constantly changing expressions as McGee gave him a thorough albeit rambling sit rep. He grinned at Tony's exaggerated eye rolls.

"No, McGenius, we thought we'd go dancing! Of course we'll be here. In case you've forgotten, we're kind of the walking wounded over here. Yeah. Okay, call me when you get here. Later, McGee." Tony ended the call and rejoined Gibbs at the table and resumed spooning in mouthfuls of oatmeal.

Fixing Tony with a perturbed glare, Gibbs asked, "So, you wanna tell me what that was all about?" He raised an impatient eyebrow as Tony finished chewing, swallowed, and chased the last spoonful of oatmeal down with a sip of coffee.

Tony bit his lower lip. He had that all-too familiar deer in the headlights look, which Gibbs knew meant that Tony wasn't sure if the news he had would be welcome.

"Um - I hope you're up for visitors. McGee got a crew together yesterday and they were able to get in and get a bunch of stuff from your house. It seems Vance pulled some strings so they got in ahead of everyone else. McGee rented a big truck, and apparently Abby has a friend who owns a secure storage place. They wanted to surprise you."

Gibbs could tell that Tony was waiting with great anticipation for some reaction. Truth be told, Gibbs couldn't do more than put the paper down and stare at him. His emotions were at war again. On the one hand, he was touched by the gesture, and proud of McGee for once again taking on the mantle of leadership. On the other hand, however, he felt violated. He was a fiercely private man, and the thought of people, even those closest to him that he knew well and trusted, sifting through what remained of his shattered life was upsetting.

No longer hungry, Gibbs abandoned his breakfast and moved away from the table. He took up a position at the window and looked out over the sprawling, bustling city below. Thankfully, Georgetown and pretty much all of downtown D.C. proper had suffered only minor damage. The Potomac served as a definite line of demarcation between areas affected and those unaffected by nature's fury. The sun was shining and vehicle and pedestrian traffic flowed as if it were any normal June morning, but Gibbs knew that just a few miles south Alexandria was in shambles.

Gibbs flinched when a strong, warm hand landed firmly on his left shoulder. He drew in and let out a shaky breath in response to the silent support being offered. Tony, as always, was on his six - just where he wanted and needed him to be.

"Tell me what I can do, Jethro," Tony crooned softly as he turned Gibbs to face him. Snaking his arms around Gibbs' waist, he pulled him close.

Gibbs looked at Tony with misty eyes, a sad smile, and a big lump in his throat. Returning the tentative embrace, he replied, "You're already doing it, Tony."

The rest of the morning was spent on life's more mundane tasks. Breakfast dishes were washed, dried and put away. Tony threw a load of towels in the washer and paid bills while Gibbs finished reading the paper and made a few phone calls. The insurance adjuster was at the house and informed Gibbs that it would be written off as a total loss. It wasn't exactly surprising news, but hearing the words still felt like a kick in the gut. He checked in with Vance, who assured him that NCIS would manage just fine for a week or two without him if need be. His last call was to Jackson, who right and properly scolded him for not calling sooner. After receiving a well-deserved chewing out for "making an old man worry himself damn near to death, Leroy", Gibbs needed a change of scenery.

Apparently, Tony did too.

"Hey Gibbs, you think you're up for a walk? Feels like the walls are closing in and I could use some fresh air. Whadya say? There's a Starbucks a couple of blocks up the street. My treat," Tony offered with a cheerful smile, knowing he had just said the magic word.

Gibbs flashed a beaming smile. "That sounds like a great idea. Let's go."

Being in no great hurry, they kept their stroll at a leisurely pace. Outfitted with a walking cast and boot, Gibbs had stubbornly refused to use his crutches. As far as he was concerned, they could stay propped up over in the corner, out of sight and out of mind. They weren't going too far, and he knew that Tony would be there to offer support and assistance if he needed it. It was a beautiful, sunny day and the neighborhood was teeming with people going about their lives. A few shop owners along the street shouted out greetings to Tony.

"You're pretty popular around here, aren't you?" Gibbs asked around a chuckle.

Tony shrugged. "It's a great neighborhood. Everyone is really friendly. It's one of the reasons I picked this place. Kind of has a small town feel even though it's in the middle of a big city. I love these little family-owned stores, and I can get pretty much everything I need right here. I think it helps that a lot of these business owners know I'm an armed federal agent," Tony replied with a snort.

Gibbs tried not to let it show, but the six block roundtrip proved to be too much for his leg. By the time they returned to Tony's place, it was painfully swollen and throbbing in time with his heartbeat. Tony must have seen a wince of pain or two because he was in mother hen mode as soon as they stepped off of the elevator.

Within seconds of returning home, Gibbs was relegated to the couch with his leg propped up on a pile of pillows. Tony retreated to the kitchen, returning with a gallon-size Ziploc back full of ice, a glass of water, and a pain pill. Gibbs took his meds without argument and drained the glass.

"Thanks, Tony," he hissed as Tony helped get him laid out on the couch. Concerned green eyes looked down on him as Tony sat on the edge of couch and tried to offer some comfort. Gibbs nearly purred when he felt long, deft fingers gently combing through the hair at his temple. Tony's touch was soothing like a balm, and it was just what the doctor ordered.

"Shhh. Close your eyes and get some rest, Jethro. I'll be right here when you wake up," Tony said softly as the strong pain medication began to pull Gibbs toward sleep.

* * *

 

"Hey, Sleepyhead! Rise and shine, we've got company," Tony crooned in his ear. "Think you can make it downstairs?"

Gibbs blinked several times to clear the fog of sleep before allowing Tony to help him sit up. "How long was I out?," he asked around a jaw-cracking yawn.

"About three hours. How you feeling?"

Quickly taking stock, Gibbs realized that despite everything he actually felt pretty good.

"I'll live," he quipped.

McGee, Abby and Ziva smiled proudly as they climbed out of the cab of the bright yellow 16-foot Penske moving van. Abby bound over, and mindful of Gibbs' tender ribs kissed his cheek in lieu of one of her crushing hugs.

"Oh Gibbs," she cried. "I'm so sorry. We tried, we really did. We wanted to get all of your stuff, but we just – we couldn't."

Wanting to put her at ease, Gibbs stated. "Hey, it's okay. It's just stuff. Insurance will take care of it."

Gibbs wondered if it had been wishful thinking to rent such a big truck until the back doors were thrown open and he saw that it was nearly full. A couple of end tables and lamps, the oak table from the entry way, and his home office desk, chair, and file cabinet had survived and would head to a storage unit with the rest of the contents of the truck. He was rendered speechless as he stared at the stacks of boxes carefully secured in the back of the truck. A few boxes labeled "Kelly" in now faded black marker, written in his own hand, got his attention.

"Wow! You guys did good," Tony declared, offering high-fives to the trio. "Forgot the lumpy old couch though," he teased.

McGee leaned against the truck and dabbed at his sweaty brow with a bandana he pulled from his back pocket. "We had a lot of help. Balboa, Sterns, and some of their teammates helped out with the heavy stuff. Even Ernie from the guardhouse pitched in. We got most of the tools out of the basement, books, pictures, and a bunch of stuff that fell out of the attic and landed in the living room. Boss, I think we got all the important stuff. Oh yeah, and we found your safe. Had to dig it out. It was too heavy to move, so, um, Ziva popped the lock and took everything out," McGee reported.

"Of course she did," Tony chuckled. "Nice work, Z!"

"That's good work, McGee. Thank you – all of you. I should kick your asses for risking your lives, but – well, thanks."

Gibbs tuned out the chatter around him and stood silently staring at the boxes until he felt a hand on his shoulder. He smiled when he saw Ziva standing by his side. They had talked once on the phone during his last night in the hospital, and she had honored his request that he didn't need or want a bunch of people fawning over him. They were a lot alike when it came to talking about, or more accurately not talking about, emotionally-charged issues. She understood better than most his need for solitude and space to sort things out on his own.

"We were happy to do it," Ziva said. "You would have done the same for any of us."

"Ziver," he greeted with a curt nod.

"Gibbs," she replied with an understanding smirk.

Before Abby was able to launch into an excited recitation of their two-day long adventure, a loud roar followed by squealing tires signaled Ducky's arrival. Abby yelled, "Oh my God!", McGee and Ziva jumped up onto the relative safety of the sidewalk, and Gibbs and Tony laughed as Ducky fishtailed into the parking lot then pulled the Challenger to an abrupt, skidding stop right behind the truck. A wide-eyed Palmer riding shotgun had grabbed the "oh shit handle" above the passenger door with both hands and looked terrified beyond reason. It took considerable persuasion to get him to release his death grip and get out of the car.

Ducky grinned and favored Gibbs with a wink as he climbed out from behind the wheel of the powerful machine. For his age, Ducky handled the heavy, over-powered car like a pro. His tastes leaned more toward exotic touring cars like his Morgan, but he had obviously thoroughly enjoyed his joyride in the classic American muscle car.

"Ah, Jethro! Here she is, as promised, without so much as a scratch."

Gibbs snorted and shook Ducky's outstretched hand. "Thanks for getting her for me, Duck. Appreciate it."

"It was my pleasure, Jethro. However, until it is determined that you are fully healed I cannot in good conscience allow you to drive her. Your driving habits are notorious under normal circumstances, and I can only imagine what a menace you would be in your present state. But fear not, I shall take very good care of her until such time you are allowed back behind the wheel."

Rolling his eyes for effect, Gibbs admonished, "Hey! I'm not the one who nearly jumped the curb a minute ago."

Gibbs wanted to invite the group in and treat them to takeout as a thank you for all they had done, until he was reminded that Tony had other plans for the evening. Tony was shutting the doors to the truck when he was approached by his would-be suitor.

All swagger and smiles, Brian walked up and chirped out a cheerful, "Hey neighbor! What's all this? Not moving out, are you?"

"Oh, hey. Um, Brian, these are my co-workers. They're taking a bunch of my boss's stuff to storage. Everyone, this is my neighbor, Brian," Tony stammered nervously.

Nodded acknowledgment mixed with a few awkward but polite 'hellos' followed.

Gibbs felt a sea of eyes on him as Brian, oblivious to his unwelcome presence, kept his attention focused solely on Tony. "Took off work a little early. Got some cooking to do. We still on for six?" Brian asked, his voice taking on a hopeful tone.

"Uh, sure. I'll, uh, see you then," Tony answered meekly.

"Can't wait," Brian replied, leaning in to whisper in Tony's ear, before returning to his Mercedes to retrieve two grocery bags.

Gibbs suddenly wanted to be alone. Making the excuse that he needed to get off of his feet, he turned and headed back into the building.

Tony closed his eyes and sighed.

"Tony? Everything okay?" McGee asked nervously, picking up on the negative vibe.

Wiping a hand down his face, Tony shrugged. "Yeah, fine. I think, I dunno, maybe Gibbs is just overwhelmed or tired or something." He left the thought hanging there, but even to his own ears it sounded like a desperate lie.

"Bullshit, Tony," Abby exclaimed accusingly. "I know that look. He's mad. More than that, he's hurt. What's going on, and who is that guy?"

"He's no one. It's nothing, really. Gibbs and I had a disagreement about something earlier. It's no big deal, at least I don't think it is. Look, I appreciate you guys stopping by but I should go check on him." He looked pleadingly at McGee, who nodded in understanding.

"Yeah, I guess we better go and get this stuff over to the storage place. Balboa's got some muscle standing by to help us unload the truck. Promise you'll call me if you need anything, okay?"

"Will do, Probie. Thanks, man," Tony said. He waved as Abby, Ziva and McGee climbed back in the truck and drove off.

While Palmer buckled himself into the Challenger, Ducky stepped up to Tony with a no-nonsense look on his face. He knew that Gibbs' sudden need to bolt was directly related to the tall, dark stranger's arrival. Jealously, especially when it involved Tony, was one emotion Gibbs could never hide from him.

"You made a promised to me that you would look after him, Anthony. I have entrusted you with Jethro's physical as well as his emotional well-being. Have I misplaced that trust?" Ducky asked, allowing for no wheedling or excuses.

"I gotta go, Ducky," Tony replied defensively.

* * *

 

Gibbs was too busy taking out his growing frustration on the coffee machine to notice Tony leaning against the center island watching him. The digital clock on the stove read 5:05. Tony would need to get ready for his "date" soon, and Gibbs wanted to be anywhere else instead of there to witness it.

"You hungry, Jethro? I can fix you something to eat," Tony offered as he closed the distance until he was in Gibbs' personal space.

Gibbs shook his head, afraid to speak and say something that would reignite an argument. He turned his attention back to the coffee machine.

"C'mere," Tony requested, taking Gibbs' hand and gently tugging him toward the living room. "Sit," he ordered, getting a two raised eyebrow response from Gibbs.

Gibbs sat at the far end of the couch and waited patiently for Tony to find the words he wanted or needed to say. Tony sat facing him, almost but not quite touching, and bit his lower lip again before sighing in frustration. "I want to say this and I don't want you to get mad. I know you aren't happy about me having dinner with Brian tonight. I get that, I think, but I have to ask you something. Do you trust me, Jethro?"

Stunned by the question, Gibbs gaped at Tony for a few seconds before answering. "Of course I trust you, Tony! You've never given me a reason not to."

"Then talk to me and tell me why this bothers you so much. It's dinner. Period. That's it. Nothing else. Two hours tops, and then back home – to you, because that's where I want to be."

Gibbs felt like he was taking a test for which he was wholly unprepared. The way Tony was looking at him, like he was searching for some sign, left him wrong footed. Half-truths weren't going to cut it, not now.

"Okay. I don't trust him," Gibbs announced.

"Why? Did I miss something?"

Gibbs frowned. The appraising looks, the seductive tone, the thinly veiled suggestion that Brian was hoping for much more than a casual dinner, all classic signs of a well-planned seduction, couldn't possibly have been lost on Tony. "Apparently."

"What does that mean?" Tony asked, his tone turning defensive. "Jethro, what the hell did I do?"

"Nothing, DiNozzo. Forget it. Just, go. Go get ready for your date," Gibbs barked before getting up and heading back to the kitchen. He could tell immediately that invoking Tony's surname had hurt. The slamming of the bedroom door confirmed it.

Tony reappeared thirty minutes later, showered and shaved with his hair carefully styled. Gibbs caught a whiff of expensive cologne as Tony passed by him on his way to the refrigerator. No words were exchanged. Gibbs didn't think he could speak if he wanted to, which he didn't.

Dressed in dark gray slacks and a light blue button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up, Tony was a vision. A black belt with a fancy buckle and Italian loafers completed the casual yet stylish look. Tony pulled a chilled bottle of French wine from the refrigerator, a sure sign to Gibbs that he was fully in date mode. Whatever the dinner plans were, it wasn't as casual as Tony had led him to believe.

"You need anything before I go?" Tony asked with an icy tone, his expression giving nothing away.

Gibbs swallowed hard and shook his head. "I don't want you to go," he finally croaked out.

Tony cocked his head and asked, "Why?" When no answer was immediately forthcoming, Tony's patience with the subject of his dinner with Brian ran out. "Fine. I'll see you later. Don't wait up," Tony said as he marched purposefully toward the door.

If his goal had been to hurt him, it worked. Gibbs felt a piercing stab of jealously, but he set his jaw defiantly. "Wouldn't dream of it."

Tony dropped his hand from the doorknob and rounded on Gibbs. "You know something, Gibbs? You can be a real asshole sometimes. I don't know what your problem is, but you better fucking figure it out. You don't want me to go, but you won't tell me why. You know what that tells me? It tells me you don't trust me. You say you do, but you sure as hell aren't acting like it. I know you're jealous, and normally that would mean a hell of a lot to me. But you're acting like you don't trust me, and I don't know if I can deal with that. I want this to work, Jethro. Whatever is going on with us, I want it to work, but you have to want it too. I don't want to lose you, but I can't be with someone who doesn't trust me. Been there, done that, and frankly, I deserve better. Dammit Gibbs - you're the one I want, so last chance ... why don't you want me to go, Jethro?"

* * *

 

Gibbs could hear the echo of the door slamming long after Tony left. He just stood there planted to the floor, staring at it, and wishing that at any moment the door knob would turn and Tony would reappear. Chasing after him was impossible and would have likely proven futile. No. Tony was angry and hurt, and Gibbs couldn't blame him.

He had been an ass!

Tony had asked him one simple question: "Why don't you want me to go, Jethro?" but he was too stubborn or too proud to ask him a second time to stay. Once should have been enough.

The room seemed to grow colder and emptier by the minute. The only thought that plagued him was, "Maybe this was a mistake". He weighed his options: Staying as Tony's roommate and trying not to cramp his style; or taking Ducky up on his offer of his guest room for the duration. There seemed to be only one viable option. Gibbs pulled out his cell phone and dialed Ducky's number.

"Hey, Duck. No, no, I'm fine," Gibbs reassured Ducky, who always seemed to assume the worst whenever he called. "Look, Duck, if your offer still stands, I think I'll take you up on it."

"Of course, Jethro, but may I ask why the sudden change in plans?" Ducky asked.

Gibbs sighed. He didn't want to out himself, or Tony for that matter, but he needed advice. "It's - it's complicated, Duck. Just don't think this is going to work out."

"I don't suppose this has anything to do with the young gentleman we were introduced to earlier?" It wasn't an accusation. When Gibbs didn't respond, Ducky continued. "Jethro, I may not be a trained investigator, but even I have noticed a gradual shift in your relationship with Anthony these past several months. You care for him, I dare say a great deal, and he for you. Tell me Jethro, am I wrong?"

Gibbs cleared his throat. "No. You're not wrong. It's just - I'm getting mixed signals, Duck. One minute I'm thinking we're on the same page and everything's great, but now he's out on a date."

"A date? Ah, I see. And would this date, as you say, be with his rather handsome neighbor?"

"Yeah. DiNozzo swears he agreed to dinner to pay back a favor, but I dunno Duck. Something's not right," Gibbs stated, trying to keep the jealousy he felt at bay.

"Jethro, pardon me, but I must ask. How well does Tony know this other man?"

"Just met him the other night, during the storm. He came by after you dropped me off here the other night. Said he was just checking in, heard Tony had been hurt, then reminded him about their dinner date. Duck, I think this guy is looking for a hell of a lot more than dinner."

An exasperated sigh came through the phone, and Gibbs knew he was in for a lecture. "Jethro, it appears to me that you are allowing jealousy to cloud your judgment! If Anthony agreed to dinner out of a sense of obligation, then you need to trust him. Whether this Brian fellow has his sights set on Tony, I cannot say, of course, but if so, I have every confidence that Anthony will set him straight. Jethro, Anthony cares for you - quite deeply. I do not for one minute believe he would betray your trust, certainly not now and with so much at stake. You have not asked me for it, but allow me to impart one bit of advice: Do not assume the worst! Talk to him, Jethro. If you and Anthony cannot work out these feelings between you, then by all means you are welcome to stay with me, if you think it best, but do not underestimate Anthony's devotion to you. Hear him out, and for once, listen with your heart. Please think before doing anything rash. I'd hate to see your happiness, as well as Tony's, derailed by stubbornness and pride. Good night, my friend. I shall be by to check on the both of you in the morning."

Leave it to his oldest and most trusted friend to make him feel guilty about doing what he thought was best, for him as well as for Tony. After flipping his phone shut after being summarily dismissed, Gibbs fought the urge to throw it across the room.

The grandfather's clock in the corner chimed 7:00. How the hell could things go so wrong in the span of twelve hours?


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Date night with Brian!

Tony schooled his features, didn't flinch at the wrenching 'bang' that hit him harder than a bullet in the gut. The last thing he needed was the wagging tongues of nosey neighbors turning him into fodder for idle gossip.

He really needed to get on that whole moving thing.

The sound of the door slamming behind him echoed in his ears, jarred his bones, and set his jaw on edge. He hadn't meant to pull so hard, but then again, perhaps it was Gibbs who had pushed.

His measured walk down the hall toward the elevator felt like walking the plank, but Tony refused to turn back, look back, not wanting to give Gibbs even that much after the things he had said. The things they had both said.

Eying the elevator as he approached the shining doors, Tony dodged to the left instead and quickly sought the isolation of the staircase. It was only one floor to Brian's apartment and he knew he desperately needed a moment to collect himself before he arrived at the door. If nothing else, he needed a moment to not be standing in the hall waiting if Gibbs decided to come after him.

Bounding down the first flight of stairs, Tony paused on the landing between floors and willed his fist-clenched hands to relax. The weight of the wine bottle in his right hand was reassuring in its heaviness, but it was all he could do in that moment to keep from smashing it violently against the concrete.

I don't want you to go.

It played in his head like the worst soundtrack he had ever heard.

Don't wait up.

Repeating endlessly.

Wouldn't dream of it.

Every word stabbing him like the quick sharp blade of a knife to the gut.

Maybe this was a mistake.

The crushing final blows.

Tony forced air into his lungs. In and out, in and out. He could do this. He had to do this.

Why?

The question he kept asking Jethro, the one he couldn't answer himself. Tony forced it from his brain now, willed the record to stop spinning until the words became an unintelligible hum, barely perceptible beneath the pounding of his heart. With a practiced hand he pushed away the pain and the hurt, willed his uncertainty and turmoil into a neatly packaged bundle at the back of his brain and tied it off. He felt the mask slipping into place, sliding effortlessly over tense muscle and grief, covering him like a second skin only he knew was there.

There was a gorgeous man waiting for him half a flight of stairs away, a man who wanted him without question.

With a last deep breath and the hint of a rehearsed roguish grin, Tony left Gibbs and his questions behind.

* * *

 

Dinner was as fabulous as Brian had promised. It wasn't five star cuisine but the man definitely knew his way around a kitchen and a spice rack. Tony's wine had complimented the meal and earned the respect of his dinner companion who seemed to fancy himself a bit of an oenophile. There had been more than a hint of flirtation from the moment Brian opened the door with a smile, and Tony had flirted back automatically, never initiating, never inviting, never upping the ante, but always giving as good as he got.

His mind had flitted across the bundled and still throbbing ache that was Gibbs a few times during the course of the meal, but Tony felt he'd held it together well, all things considered.

As they finished the last course, Brian leaned back and contemplated Tony over the glow of tasteful taper candles, swirling the last few sips of wine around the glass cradled loosely in his palm. Where his eyes had been full of openness and a touch of mischief for the evening thus far, they suddenly turned darker, more reflective.

"Why did you come, Tony?" Brian asked without preamble. One moment they had been chatting amiably about their respective collegiate experiences –Brian had admitted to being far too focused on a career as a physician to indulge in the whimsies of fraternity pranks and beer bongs, but he encouraged Tony's racier stories with a bit of wistful envy- the next, a heavy silence had suddenly fallen between them.

"What do you mean?" The mask flickered for a split second but stayed firmly in place. "I came because I wanted to."

"Really?" Brian's chin dropped toward his chest and mouth curled in a sad smile that was part disappointment, part sympathy. He looked at Tony from beneath thick eyelashes. "Not just because you felt like you owed me?"

Tony took a sip of his wine and forced himself to meet Brian's eyes across the table. "Partly." The mask slipped just a little in the face of Brian's candor. "Okay, mostly. But that doesn't mean I haven't had a good time. You didn't lie about your cooking. And it's pretty rare I find someone who doesn't immediately roll their eyes the minute I bring up my first fraternity hazing story."

Brian sighed. "This is going to sound bad, but I almost wish you hadn't come. That you'd turned me down or called to cancel at the last minute. Wouldn't ever have had the chance to find out what I was missing."

"Excuse me?" Tony was now genuinely confused.

"I think I could like you, Tony," Brian offered, sounding slightly rueful.

"And that's a problem?" There were alarm bells ringing in the back of Tony's head. This was his out. This was his window. He could walk away now and no one would get hurt. Not him, not Brian, not…

Brian cocked his head and studied him in the low light, gave a half nod. "I think I could like you a whole lot, actually." He finished his wine and set the glass lightly on the table, reaching for the near-empty bottle and dividing its remnants between Tony's glass and his own without asking if Tony wanted a refill. "You're hot-and don't even try and pretend you don't know it. Hell, the secret agent thing alone kind of puts you in a hotness category all your own. Very James Bond."

"It's Special Agent, actually." Tony corrected automatically, wincing at the absurdity of it.

Brian moved on as if he hadn't said anything. "You have decent taste in wine, you ate my food without complaint, and I've been half-hard since you waked in the door just thinking about whether I'd get a chance to kiss you tonight. If you want the truth, I haven't really been able to stop thinking of you since we met the other day and that's pretty rare for me. I'm a little picky," he confided.

Tony didn't know what to say. He couldn't remember the last time a guy had been so open with him and was at a loss as to how to react. "You make all that stuff sound like a bad thing. What if it turned out I liked you too?" The words were there but he knew his heart wasn't in them. Gibbs was right. Brian was an easy alternative. He could slip into this so simply, get lost in the hot sex, good conversation, and excitement of it for a few months and come out the other side intact, the same Tony DiNozzo as always. Except he wasn't sure that was good enough for him anymore.

"The shitty part is, I think you could. Hell, under different circumstances I'm pretty damn sure you could." There was no anger in Brian's voice, just disappointment that Tony didn't understand.

"And what circumstances are those?" He leaned forward over the small table, fingers brushing Brian's where they toyed with the stem of his wine glass.

"The ones where you're not in love with the guy waiting for you back in your apartment. With your boss or your friend or whatever he really is to you." Brian hooked his fingers into Tony's, didn't let him pull away from it.

"I'm not," Tony tried, desperately needing to retreat the few inches from Brian's penetrating gaze. "I'm not in love with him. It's just…it's complicated." The mask was crumbling fast, the strings on the bundle of his emotions loosening, coming undone too quickly for him to put it all together again.

"You are," Brian said gently, squeezing his hand lightly, "and it's not complicated. You just need to tell him."

Tony opened his mouth to respond but then closed it again, reached for his wine and polished off the glass in one gulp instead. "You don't know him." It wasn't an answer or and admission.

"I don't," Brian admitted. "And I don't really know you. But I know the look you had in your eyes when you left here to find him the other day. I know you risked your own life for his. I know he might be your boss, but I'm pretty sure he's your best friend too. Tonight we've talked about where we grew up, where we went to school, and about fifty other things, but he hasn't come up once. Either he isn't important to you at all or he's so important you can't even bring yourself to talk about him with me, and I'm pretty sure I know which one it is."

"He didn't…he didn't want me to come here tonight. We fought." Tony stared into the bottom of the empty glass for a moment before slowly raising his eyes. The gut churning agony of it was loose in his head again and there was no putting it away this time, no wall strong enough to contain it.

"Why didn't he want you to come?" Brian asked softly, a hint of sympathy coloring his voice now.

Tony smiled ruefully, shook his head. "He doesn't trust me with you. More accurately, he doesn't trust you."

Brian laughed at this. "He shouldn't. But there must have been more to it than that."

"He wouldn't tell me. I asked him." Tony ran a hand through his hair, let out the breath he had been holding. It felt good to talk to someone, all the better that it was a relative stranger. There was nothing for him to lose here.

"Wouldn't tell you or couldn't? Like you said, I don't know him, but if he's anything at all like you, he's probably too stubborn to admit it, even to himself. The best ones need a little push." Brian's fingers brushed Tony's upturned palm.

He was right. Tony knew he was right. He'd known it before he'd even walked out the door tonight, had heard it in the desperate plea beneath the anger in Jethro's voice, the pain in his eyes that didn't make sense. "I'm sorry," Tony met Brian's eyes, wanting to let him know he was truly sincere. "This wasn't fair to you. I should have been honest. With both of us. But I really am grateful to you. Probably even more now."

Brian shrugged. "It was a good dinner, good wine, good conversation. And who knows, might be nice to have a friend in the building."

"Yeah. That would be something new for me. Spend most of my time trying to fly below the radar. No complications," Tony admitted. "But I think a friend would be good."

"Provided your boyfriend approves." Brian smiled and held his hands up as if to prove his intentions were completely platonic.

"He's not my…" Tony started to protest automatically but stopped himself. "I'll talk to Jethro. I'll make him understand."

"Jethro? Seriously? You're turning me down for a guy named Jethro?" Brian laughed. "Now I know you must be in love with him."

Tony let himself laugh too, at the irony of it, at the bitter absurdity of the entire situation. Eventually he sighed and grew serious again. "I guess I really am. In love with him, I mean."

"Then you should probably go and tell him, don't you think?" Brian pushed his chair out and cleared the plates as he walked Tony to the door.

"Thanks again, for everything." Tony leaned against the door frame. "If there's ever anything you need, anything I can do for you…"

"You can keep me in mind if things don't work out," Brian smiled gently and cupped his shoulder. "Oh, and you can walk away slowly so I can watch. If I don't get a kiss, I at least deserve that much for cooking you dinner." His raised a brow above dancing eyes.

Tony could tell the jab was good natured. "Done," he agreed. "Just don't ever let him catch you watching," Tony cast over his shoulder as he started for the elevators.

"I think I can take a guy named Jethro." Brian's voice followed him down the hall.

"He carries a gun." Tony turned back as he reached the stairwell.

"Good point." Brian's smile was radiant even from a hundred feet away. "Good luck, Tony."

"Thanks." Tony let the door swing closed behind him and took the stairs two at a time.

* * *

Gibbs pulled a random novel from Tony's fairly extensive library hoping that a good book would provide some distraction from his scattered thoughts, but gave up after less than a dozen pages. Faring no better flipping through a couple of hundred channels on the big screen TV, he blindly tossed the remote onto the coffee table. More than two hours had passed since Tony stormed out, not that Gibbs expected him to keep to his self-imposed deadline.

Faced with the depressing and very real possibility that he might not come home at all, Gibbs was reduced to nervous pacing and muttering self-chastising curses. There had been nothing in the refrigerator to tempt his non-existent appetite, so he chased down his evening dose of pills with a large glass of milk. He kept eyeing the bar and contemplated pouring himself a stiff drink or two. Knowing full well that booze and pills didn't mix, he skipped the strong pain killer.

Ducky's wise words and Tony's confession of his feelings played in a constant loop in his mind. Tony wanted him, which was both a thrilling and terrifying revelation. Now Gibbs was left wondering if he had driven Tony away for good and straight into the arms of another man.

Standing at the window looking down on the city lights below, Gibbs didn't hear the turn of the lock or the door quietly snicking closed, but he knew that Tony had come home. With the faint, lingering scent of cologne filling his nostrils, Gibbs turned around to find Tony standing just out of his reach. In the dim light of the small reading lamp on the end-table, Gibbs could see that the earlier anger, hurt and resentment was gone from Tony's eyes; fear, regret and guilt having taken their place.

"Hey," they said in quiet unison, neither man quite sure what else to say. A protracted, awkward silence followed. Gibbs breaking eye contact and looking down at his feet drove Tony to break the nervous tension.

"I - Jethro, I need to break Rule Six and say I'm sorry. I shouldn't have gone," Tony admitted. "I need you to know that."

More silence. Hurt more than he dared admit, and afraid that his voice would betray him, Gibbs could only offer a subtle nod in response. He felt a light brush of Tony's hand on his arm. It was tentative and cautious, but signaled that Tony was making an effort to reach out. Gibbs heard a pitiful sigh when he turned his attention back to the window. He could see Tony's reflection in the glass and watched for some sign of contrition. There it was, a moment later - shame, as Tony frowned and lowered his head.

Absently rubbing the back of his neck when he was nervous was Tony's tell, and it was one that Gibbs knew all too well. He could tease and pester anyone, anywhere, anytime, but when faced with one of life's harsh realities, all of Tony's underlying insecurities came to the surface. Gibbs turned back to him again and waited, feeling a renewed chill settle over the room. He wanted to demand to know why Tony had been so hell bent on keeping his date with Brian, but Ducky's stern admonition to hear him out trumped his wounded pride.

Tony met Gibbs' gaze and dropped his hand back to his side. "Have I blown it, Jethro?"

Gibbs cocked his head and his brow furrowed. "I guess that depends."

"Depends? On what?"

Gibbs took a step closer. "Your motives." He kept any accusation out of the blunt statement, but he could tell his words hit home.

A tired sigh. "Jethro, it was just dinner. Nothing happened, I swear. We just - talked." Tony paused and took a deep breath.

Gibbs could tell he was hedging but didn't push. Something happened, something more than friendly get-to-know-you chit-chat, but he wasn't going to force Tony to lie to him. Gibbs tried but failed to hide his disappointment. The one thing he thought he could always count on was Tony's honesty.

Crossing his arms, Gibbs snorted. "Just talked, huh? You expect me to believe that? He just wanted to talk?"

Tony gaped at the implied accusation. "Dammit Gibbs, what do want me to say?" he yelled in frustration.

One step, one determined, purposeful step put Gibbs dangerously in Tony's personal space. He could feel Tony's breath on his face and the heat radiating from his body. Gibbs managed to tamp down another wave of jealous rage and looked Tony dead in the eye.

His tone steady and deadly serious, Gibbs said plainly, "I just want the damn truth, DiNozzo! Was going to his place tonight some little test to see if I'd get jealous? I told you I didn't trust him, so I asked you not to go, but you went anyway. Why?"

Tony shrugged then walked over to the bar, flipping on another lamp on the way. Gibbs was sure it was to buy time and put some distance between them. "The truth? I honestly don't know. I could lie to you and say I wasn't flattered that a good-looking guy asked me out, but I won't. When I left here, I was hurt and angry thinking that you of all people didn't trust me. You want," he asked brandishing a brand new bottle of Macallan 18. Getting an affirmative nod, he poured a generous amount into two cut crystal tumblers. Gibbs walked over and took the offered drink and mumbled his thanks.

"Salute," Tony said in response, respectfully raising his glass to Gibbs in keeping with Italian custom before taking a drink.

"You know, it's been a long time since someone showed that much interest in me. The minute we met the night of the storm, Brian made it pretty damn clear he was attracted to me. He wasn't exactly subtle about it, but I was only thinking about getting to you. Dinner for his little scooter. Seemed like a fair trade at the time. I didn't talk to him again until he showed up here the other night. Hell, to be honest I forgot all about him. I did owe him for helping me to get to you but not if meant hurting you, and for that I truly am sorry."

Perched on a bar stool, Gibbs nodded and took another sip of the velvety smooth Scotch. It wasn't his preferred poison, but it provided a necessary and welcome distraction. Studying the swirling amber liquid in his glass, he asked, "So, was I right not to trust him?"

Tony rolled his eyes and ran a hand through his hair. "Brian's not a bad guy, Gibbs. He could have taken advantage of me, but he didn't even try. He's the one who realized that the whole thing was a big mistake. Like I said, we talked. Actually, I rambled on like an idiot and he listened. He finally admitted that he liked me, and I was - well, I don't know, confused? Hurt? Angry? Curious? But nothing was going happen. I knew it and so did he."

Tony let out his familiar nervous chuckle and walked around the bar until he stood right in front of Gibbs. "He asked me why I showed up, then he actually said he wished I had cancelled on him. He could tell I was ... that my heart wasn't in it, and - that I was in love with someone else," he trailed off, leaving the thought hanging as a question.

Gibbs' eyebrows shot up in surprise. Maybe he had misjudged Brian, but there was only one way to find out. After the initial shock wore off, he asked, "Was he right? Tell me, Tony. Was ... he ... right?"

Tony's breath hitched and he swallowed hard. "Yes. I'm scared shitless but yes, I think I am. I'm definitely falling here, Jethro."

Gibbs couldn't move, couldn't speak. He wasn't expecting a declaration of love and needed a minute or two, or ten, to process it. Tony looked at him with renewed confidence and gently pushed away from him. Gibbs immediately felt the loss of the closeness.

It was Tony's turn to pin Gibbs in place with a questioning glare and demand some answers. "Okay, my turn. I have to know, Gibbs. I have to know if you feel the same way, or if you feel something - anything - for me. Tell me that after all these months, hell years really, that you've never thought about this, about us. Tell me you don't want me. Tell me I've been fooling myself all this time. I have to know." Tony threw his hands up in frustration.

The pleading and desperation became too much for Gibbs, so since words failed him he answered in the only way he could. He grabbed the front of the Tony's shirt and jerked him forward. Before any protest could be voiced, Gibbs captured his lips in a kiss of utter possession.

Gibbs' hands came up and held Tony's face in place as his tongue begged for entry, which was granted without hesitation. Their tangled tongues danced and dueled, waging friendly war without either seeking dominance. When Tony moaned into his mouth, Gibbs stood and slowly walked him backwards until he was up against the wall. Only then did Gibbs release him, making sure to tug on Tony's full, lush lower lip with his teeth.

"Did he kiss you like that?" Gibbs panted against parted, trembling lips. Running his hands up and down Tony's broad chest he growled, "Did he touch you like this?" One hand remained on Tony's chest while the other traveled down to firmly cover the growing erection concealed behind the fly of his pants. "Or like this?"

"No, no, no," Tony croaked out, slamming his eyes shut and shaking his head in vehemence. "Jethro, I swear."

Perfectly calloused hands returned to gently but firmly hold Tony's face. "Good, now open your eyes and look at me," Gibbs requested huskily. He cracked a small grin at the shiny green eyes as they blinked open, now full of desire. "I do, Tony. I want this. I want you, all of you." Gibbs ground his own burgeoning erection against Tony's leg to drive the point home. "But it's all, or nothing for me. I'm talking long-haul. I'm not risking our friendship or anything else for games or a good time until someone else comes along. I'm a jealous bastard, Tony, you know that. I can't - I won't - share you, with anyone! And, I have to know that you won't run when things get tough."

Tony reached up and cupped Gibbs' face, stroking his cheeks with his thumbs. Leaning in he spoke against the surprising soft lips he wanted and needed to feel against his again. "Never. Too important. I'm all in, Gibbs - Jethro. We can do this, you and me," he panted before covering Gibbs' mouth with his and plunging his tongue inside with clear intent.

Hands roamed reverently pulling shirts from waistbands, seeking skin to touch and taste. Moans of pleasure mixed with shallow, panted breaths as their mutual desperate passion grew. Gibbs fisted Tony's hair and pulled his head back, exposing his bobbing Adam's Apple. Using lips, tongue and a judicious application of teeth, Gibbs mapped a trail up the column of this throat, while one hand worked to unbutton Tony's shirt. The tiny pearlescent buttons were no match for Gibbs' nimble fingers. He felt Tony's body relax and surrender to the sensual assault. Gibbs only released his captured prey after pulling Tony's collar to the side and sinking his teeth into the tender flesh of his shoulder. If he could do nothing else tonight he was going to mark what was his. But God in Heaven, he wanted more!

"Ah," Tony moaned, feeling the blood being sucked to the surface. He didn't care that he'd be wearing a deep, purple hickey for several days. Gibbs was staking his claim, and Tony went willingly, accepting the mark of possession.

"Jethro, I want you. Please?" Tony whimpered as he reached for the button on Gibbs' jeans. His long fingers deftly popped the button, but before the zipper could be lowered a strong hand grabbed his wrist.

Stilling both of his wandering hands, Gibbs leaned forward to rest his forehead against Tony's. "Tony, we can't. I can't - not yet, not like this," he stated with a breathy sigh of regret. "I want you too. Jesus I do, but I want our first time to be good for both of us. We've got time, and I'm not going anywhere." The kiss that followed was more tender than before and so full of promise.

The pouty frown on Tony's face when they finally parted would have been comical under different, less sexually charged circumstances. "Jesus, I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking," Tony chuckled. In his lust and longing, he had apparently forgotten Gibbs' current physical state.

Blushing slightly, he smiled at Gibbs and squeezed his hands. "Okay, then we wait. Not gonna be easy though. So, um, now what?"

Amused by Tony's flustered and still semi-aroused state, Gibbs snickered. "Well, how about a quick shower before bed?"

Tony threw his head back with a groan. "You're killing me here, Jethro! You expect me to get naked with you in the shower and behave myself? Huh uh, that's just not gonna happen." It was his turn to kiss Gibbs' pouty lips. "But I'm all for cuddling and, you know, maybe making out a little bit," he suggested with a bashful grin.

Snaking his arms around Tony's waist and pulling him close, Gibbs said, "Oh, I think I can handle that."

Tony took Gibbs by the hand, and after switching off the two lamps, tugged him toward the bedroom. Gibbs stumbled and nearly slammed into his back when Tony suddenly stopped. "You need to take your meds!"

Gibbs rolled his eyes and shook his head. "I already did, except for the pain pill. Don't need it." He shouldered his way past Tony, leaving him standing in the hall.

Looking in the large mirror over the double-sinked vanity, Gibbs saw Tony leaning in the doorway watching him.

"What?" Gibbs barked despite his mouth being full of toothpaste.

Tony smirked and pushed off the door frame. He turned on the faucet and squeezed a thin line of Colgate onto his toothbrush. "Nothing, just looking at you. You know, you look a hell of a lot better than you did a few days ago. You're one tough hombre, Gibbs!"

Gibbs spit the toothpaste into the sink. After rinsing the residual foam from the basin, he dabbed his mouth with the hand towel set out for him.

"I feel a hell of a lot better," Gibbs replied as he moved to the toilet and dropped his pants to take care of his full bladder. He smirked when he saw Tony's eyes go wide for an instant before slamming shut as he concentrated on brushing his teeth. 'A little teasing won't hurt,' Gibbs thought as he pulled his pants back up and flushed.

Nightly routines completed, both men stripped down to their underwear and t-shirts and climbed into bed. Wanting to lie down for a change, Gibbs tossed one of his extra pillows to the floor. With only two pillows under his head, he could lie on his back with almost no discomfort.

To his right, Tony looked over at him with an inquisitive look on his face. "You gonna be able to sleep like that? Sure you don't want a pain pill first? I know from experience that broken ribs hurt like a bitch."

"I'm fine," Gibbs protested before his tone softened. "Besides, kind of hard to cuddle if I'm sitting up." His heart skipped a beat at the beaming smile leveled at him.

Tony arranged his pillows closer to Gibbs creating a cozy nest, and after switching off his bed-side lamp he got himself situated snuggled up to his side. Gibbs was ready to smack him after repeatedly answering, "This okay?" each time Tony moved closer with "M'fine, just hurry up."

The feel of Tony's fingers lightly tracing random patterns in his chest hair nearly made Gibbs purr. It was a tender, caring gesture with nothing sexual driving it. Turning his head toward soft humming, Gibbs smiled. He couldn't place the tune, but it was familiar and reminiscent of a lullaby he hadn't heard in many years.

"Mmm, that feels nice," Gibbs muttered, reaching out to gently stroke Tony's arm resting on his belly. Used to sleeping alone on his old, lumpy couch, Gibbs was unaccustomed to having a warm body cuddled up next him. He liked it, a lot.

"Wish I could give you a massage instead," Tony said around a yawn. He then propped himself up on his elbow and smiled down at Gibbs. "But I guess a good-night kiss will have to do."

Tony initiated the kiss, keeping it mostly chaste. Gibbs reached up to cup Tony's cheek and deepened it. It was loving and languid, and lasted until both men were nearly breathless. Tony broke the kiss and looked deeply into Gibbs' eyes.

"Good night, Jethro," Tony said, pecking Gibbs on the lips one last time before snuggling back in.

"Good night, Tony," Gibbs replied, turning his head to place a final kiss in Tony's hair.


	14. Chapter 14

"Ouch!"

"I haven't even pulled it out yet, Anthony. Surely the man who walked four blocks with a three inch deep wound to his leg isn't bothered by a little tickle," Ducky chided.

"I was hopped up on adrenaline then. Besides, shouldn't you use something to, I don't know, make it slide out easier?" Tony winced at the tight pinching feeling against his skin.

"I've applied a topical anesthetic. If you want something stronger, I'm afraid it will necessitate a trip to the emergency room." The first of Tony's staples made a tinkling sound as it bounced off the sides of the glass bowl Ducky deposited it in.

The emergency room was pretty low on the list of places Tony wanted to see the inside of again anytime soon. "Fine. Just…get it over with," he grumbled, sucking in a breath as the feeling of metal sliding out of his body made him shudder.

"I'm surprised. Usually you're a much better patient that Jethro. Perhaps he's already rubbing off on you?" Ducky raised an eyebrow as he plucked the next staple from Tony's flesh.

Glancing sideways at Gibbs who seemed unusually absorbed in the morning paper, Tony fought to keep any color from rising to his cheeks. He cleared his throat somewhat awkwardly and attempted to change the subject. "So after this I'm good? Back to work saving the planet?" he asked hopefully.

"You'll need to remain on antibiotics for a few more days and I'll close this with some butterfly bandages just to be on the safe side. I'd recommend elevation for at least 15 minutes per hour for the next week but I see no reason why you can't return to your desk."

Tony opened his mouth to protest but Ducky cut him off.

"And only your desk. Or the inside of the building, anyway. Somehow I doubt even a stout set of manacles and a stern scolding from me could keep you out of our dear Abigail's lab." He continued to concentrate on his work as he spoke. "You may still experience some drainage where the staples were and you need time off your feet each day to allow the damaged muscle to heal properly. No running in the halls, no long treks, and no field work for another week."

Again, Tony prepared his objection, but this time he was cut off by Gibbs.

"You heard him. And don't think McGee and Ziva will cover for your ass either. They may like you better but they're more afraid of me." Gibbs didn't even bother to look up from the paper.

"I take it this means I won't hear any objections from you about your own restrictions, Jethro?" Ducky piped up hopefully.

"Depends on what they try and tell me not to do, Duck." Carefully folding the paper, Gibbs removed his glasses and addressed the pair on the couch with a stubborn glare.

"We'll see, I suppose. I've made an appointment with an orthopedist friend of mine in an hour. Hope you didn't have any plans." He plucked the last of the metal from Tony's leg with a satisfied sigh. "All finished, Anthony. I'll just wrap things up here and you should be good as new before you know it." He gave Gibbs no time to voice his disagreement with the plan.

"An hour? What the hell's so important you couldn't bother to tell me about it until now?" Gibbs leaned down awkwardly and scratched at his leg in irritation.

"Depending on how your hairline fracture is mending, we may be able to get you out of that thing and into a more comfortable brace. I thought you'd be ecstatic so I saved it as a surprise." Having already inspected Gibbs' various injuries, Ducky began to pack up his bag. "Besides, I thought if I told you too early, you might try to run off on me."

Tony hid his smirk ineffectively.

"You can get this damn thing off my leg? Today?" Gibbs stood and shoved his chair back roughly.

Ducky sighed. "I said 'might', Jethro. He might take it off."

"He better, or we're stopping at the hardware store on the way home and I'm cutting it off." He was already heading for the door. "Well? What the hell are we waiting for?"

Sitting in an Orthopedic Clinic waiting room was not how Gibbs wanted to spend Friday afternoon, but it ended up being time well spent. Walking out into the muggy late June afternoon two hours after arriving, he felt like a new man. Just being able to walk with something resembling his normal gait was a victory.

While the doctor reviewed the latest series of leg and chest x-rays, a nurse was assigned the dubious honor of removing Gibbs' stitches. The small scars left behind on his arm and temple would fade over time and be barely noticeable; just a couple more to add to his already extensive collection. However, the long row of heavier sutures that were required to close the jagged wound to his leg left a rather impressive scar, which Tony confessed with a husky whisper he found incredibly sexy.

The x-rays showed a marked, almost miraculous improvement in the leg fracture. Satisfied with the progress, the specialist in charge of his follow up care recommended replacing the unwieldy cast with a somewhat more flexible brace. It would still provide the necessary support, but with his movements less restricted it would allow him to begin a graduated rehab program to gain back strength and range of motion. The thorough exam also saw the end of the wrist brace. Things were looking up!

The only significant lingering injury was his ribs. Having dealt with them before, Gibbs knew there would be considerable recovery time. While disappointing, the estimate of two to three more weeks before they would be fully healed was not a big surprise. It would be a minimum one more week of home convalescence before he would be allowed to return to work, which was not welcome news. To soften the blow and appease his surly friend, Ducky declared Gibbs fit enough to drive now that he was no longer casted, and agreed to return the Challenger to him on Sunday.

Normal daily activity hadn't caused Gibbs much discomfort, save for an occasional sharp twinge if he coughed or God forbid sneezed, but caution was still strongly advised before adding more 'strenuous activities' to his routine. Gibbs smirked at the implication causing Tony to turn bashful and look away.

Warned about setting back his full recovery by pushing too hard, too fast, Tony insisted on limiting Gibbs' rehab to leisurely neighborhood strolls. Their twice daily walks over the weekend afforded Gibbs the opportunity to meet some of the local shop owners he had heard so much about. Ducking into the small family-run bakery half a block from home, Gibbs stocked up on his new favorite Jamaican blend coffee beans. Having pretty much wiped out Tony's supply, he figured it was the least he could do. He also treated Tony to some God-awful fancy sounding, iced, frothy concoction and bought a large black coffee to go for himself.

Free of the restrictive plaster cast, Gibbs was given the green light to shower on his own. Exercising extreme caution, he could remove the brace for that short period of time and no longer required the shower chair. Not surprisingly, Sunday night had Tony suggesting that it might still be a good idea to be in the shower with him, "You know, just in case." Gibbs wasn't about to argue with that logic!

* * *

 

Gibbs woke Monday morning with a start at the dip in the mattress and the welcome aroma of strong, black coffee swirling just inches from his nose. He blinked repeatedly to bring the face in front of him into focus. There was no mistaking the dazzling smile or the twinkling green eyes. He smiled back.

Tony sat perched on the edge of the bed holding a steaming mug of Gibbs' preferred morning pick me up. Instead of the jeans and t-shirts Gibbs had become accustomed to as of late, Tony was dressed in a dark blue power suit, crisp white shirt with a blue and gray striped tie. His hair was meticulously styled and a hint of his aftershave hung in the air.

"Mornin," Gibbs said, his voice rough from sleep. He sat up and leaned against the headboard and accepted the coffee offering served with a chaste good morning kiss on the side. His ribs protested the sudden movement, but the pain barely registered.

"Good morning," Tony chirped with an abundance of cheerfulness considering the early hour. "Sorry I woke you, but I'm going in early. I probably have about six billion emails to go through, and I want to be caught up before Ziva and Probie get in. Can I get you anything before I go?"

Gibbs considered the question for a brief moment as he took his first sip of coffee then shook his head.

"Nah, I'm good," he yawned. "Gotta get up anyway. Having breakfast with Fornell."

Tony nodded. "Good. I know you two haven't talked in a while. Mostly because of me coming around." He patted Gibbs' leg. "Have fun, and I'll see you later." One more kiss and Tony was gone.

Having enjoyed a thorough exploratory shower the night before, Gibbs morning routine amounted to washing his face and brushing his teeth. When he was finished, he leaned on the vanity top and studied his reflection in the mirror. He was definitely beginning to show his age. He could still feel Tony's soapy thumbs tracing and attempting to smooth the worry lines on his forehead and his soft lips peppering kisses to the frown lines around his mouth and crinkles around his eyes. They both held back from the mutual desire threatening to erupt at any moment. Each look spoke volumes. Each touch was skillful and reverent. Each kiss was passionate but tender. Gibbs couldn't help but think that their first time making love would be intense. Soon, he hoped, soon.

Gibbs didn't realize he was smiling as he tied his shoes until he was startled out of his musings by a loud pounding on the door. He almost expected Tobias to yell, "FBI, open up", but was instead greeted with, "Jesus, Jethro, took you long enough," when he opened the door just a short moment later.

* * *

For 0800 on a Monday, the IHOP was busy. Located just a couple of miles north of the National Mall, tourists and families preparing for a day of sight-seeing filled the tables. After a short wait, Gibbs and Fornell were seated at a booth beneath a window with the Washington Monument clearly in view in the distance.

After placing their orders, blueberry pancakes for Gibbs and stuffed French toast for Tobias, they talked over an advertised "Never Ending Coffee Pot". Fornell regaled Gibbs with the continuing saga of his reconciliation with Diane, but it wasn't long before he realized that he had lost his audience. Across from him, Gibbs sat staring out the window looking deep in thought - and smiling?

"Hey! You okay?" Tobias asked.

Startled, Gibbs schooled his features and shrugged. "Fine. Why?"

"You're a million miles away. What's on your mind, or maybe - who?"

Busted!

Gibbs swallowed a mouthful of coffee.

"What? Nothing. Just have a lot to think about. House is gone, or will be in a couple of days. Need to figure out what to do next. It's gonna take a while to rebuild. Can't stay with DiNozzo forever," he replied, sounding more wistful than he had intended.

There was a brief reprieve when the waitress arrived with their food and refilled their coffee. Silence reigned for a few minutes as both men dug in.

He was still years behind when it came to technology, but even Gibbs knew that the electronic 'ding' coming from in his pocket meant he had received a text message. He pulled out his old-school phone, flipped it open, and smiled at the words on the screen - _"I'm BORED! Miss U!"_

Tony!

With his rudimentary knowledge, thanks to Abby's patient tutelage, he managed to send back a reply. _"Me 2."_

"You - texting?" Tobias asked with feigned shock. "Must be spending too much time around McGee. Anyone I know?"

"Work," was Gibbs' clipped reply. He flipped the phone closed and shoved it back in his pocket. Knowing Tony, there would be a follow up message that probably would not be for Tobias Fornell's eyes.

"Must have been damn good news to make you smile like that. Sure it wasn't from some pretty nurse you charmed in the hospital?"

Gibbs scowled. "If you must know, it was DiNozzo."

"Ah, now we're getting somewhere! So, how are you two getting along anyway? Must be pretty cozy bunking at DiNozzo's love shack. He driving you crazy yet with his revolving door of women?" Fornell asked before shoveling a forkful of scrambled eggs into his mouth.

Gibbs angrily stabbed a piece of sausage with his fork. "Going okay," he replied, his tone flat, dismissive, and conveying nothing.

Tobias dropped his fork on his plate and sat back with his arms folded across his chest. "Uh huh. Try again," Tobias accused, wearing a smirk of his own. "C'mon, Gibbs. You know damn well you can't hide anything from me, so spill. You just got pissed off when I mentioned the women. What's going on with you two?"

Gibbs responded with a pointed glare at his friend. The last thing he needed right now was an interrogation or a truck load of grief. He and Tony hadn't discussed telling anyone about their budding relationship, even though the cat was already out of the bag as far as McGee, Ducky, Palmer, and by now likely Abby and Ziva, were concerned. Unlike Tobias, who he considered a friend, they were more like family.

Deciding not to take the bait, Gibbs turned his attention to the stack of blueberry pancakes in front of him. Tobias responded to the stonewalling with a huff. Undeterred, he pressed on with his fishing expedition.

"Okay, then let me ask you this. You ever wonder why I stopped dropping by your place? I'll give you a hint – it had nothing to do with Diane, but it had a lot to do with a certain sports car parked in your driveway every Friday night. You and DiNozzo have been spending a lot of time together - off the clock - and as far as I can tell it's been going on for a while. Now, I may not be the greatest investigator on the planet, but I can put two and two together and usually end up with the right answer. Or, should I say - put one and one together?"

Gibbs cocked his head in disbelief at the half-curious, half-accusatory eyes gazing back at him from across the table. "You're assuming a lot, Tobias."

Leaning over the table Tobias muttered, "Am I now? Well, I seem to recall a 90-proof confession you made a few years ago about some hot bartender. Remember that night? You and I tied one on after the joint raid on the warehouse in Anacostia went south and a couple of hostages were killed. Don't tell me you've forgotten?"

Gibbs cocked his head and stared back at Tobias as he recalled that night. He remembered the blown raid, finding the young mother and her 2-year old son lying dead on the cold cement floor, then Tobias showing up in the basement to help him polish off a bottle of Maker's Mark. Gibbs dropped his head and sighed. He remembered – all of it.

'Fuck!'

Tobias sat back and nodded. "Yeah, thought so. Well, I gotta say, if you're planning on kicking something off with another guy, you could do a hell of a lot worse than DiNozzo. Hell, your relationship with him has lasted longer than all of your marriages combined."

Gibbs pushed his plate away and picked up his coffee. He needed to turn the tables and end this particular line of questioning and fast, but when Tobias became fixated on a topic there were few options to stop him.

"Christ, Tobias, drop it," Gibbs warned through clenched teeth. "We work together. We're friends. You know what those are, right? DiNozzo just figured he owed me for all the times he's had to crash at my place. Don't go reading more into it, because there's nothing to tell," Gibbs cautioned while looking down into his nearly empty cup.

"Yet," Tobias stated.

"What?" Gibbs barked in confusion.

"There's nothing to tell – yet."

Slamming his elbows on the table, Gibbs dropped his head into his hands. He could feel the beginning of a blinding headache coming on. When he finally looked up, he was surprised to see Tobias just sitting there. No judgment, no accusation, nothing but curious acceptance on his face. It was a close to a show of support as he was going to get. Gibbs sighed.

Apparently deciding to show mercy for the remainder of breakfast, Tobias asked Gibbs about his injuries, recovery, and when he would be going back to work. He even came through with a dog-eared business card from his wallet of an architect he knew; a former FBI agent, who retired nine years ago after taking a bullet in the back and being confined to a wheelchair. Gibbs promised to give him a call.

Tobias pulled his FBI-issued sedan into a "Guest" parking spot and turned off the ignition.

'Oh shit! Here we go,' Gibbs thought. He could tell that Tobias was choosing his next words carefully, very carefully, and it scared the shit out of him. The moment Tobias cleared his throat Gibbs knew he was in for an earful.

Tobias took a long, deep breath, fidgeting for a moment before summoning up the courage to speak. He turned in his seat to face Gibbs. Another deep breath.

"Okay. I'm just gonna say this once, but if you tell anyone, I'll deny it. We have been friends a long time, and I've seen you go through three divorces and a short but distinguished line of girlfriends. Together they all turned you into the lonely, pain in the ass, cranky bastard you are now. None of them made you happy, but Tony does. I can tell. And you know I'd never say anything to anyone, especially Diane."

Tobias chuckled and Gibbs shot him a murderous glare in response for even mentioning Diane.

"Sorry. Okay. Look, all I'm saying is, if you have a chance to be happy then take it. Dammit, Jethro! Good-looking younger stud like DiNozzo? I've been around the two of you enough to know that he damn near worships you. Hell, actually can't believe I didn't see this sooner! I meant what I said earlier, too. You've already been in a relationship with him for a decade. Just be careful - and don't fuck it up! Hate to see you throw away a good thing."

Gibbs blinked a few times when Tobias finished before saying, "Are you done?"

Tobias nodded in response. "So, am I wrong?"

Wanting to bring a swift end to the inquisition, Gibbs relented. "No, not exactly." He went on to give Tobias an abridged version of events since his release from the hospital, leaving out the more intimate aspects. He recounted their first kiss, his jealously over Brian, his lecture from Ducky, and all of the little things that Tony had done to make him feel at home. The only reaction from Tobias was wide eyes and raised eyebrows when Gibbs mentioned the big new bed.

Gibbs let his head fall back against the headrest. "Tony's been great during all of this, and I sure as hell haven't made it easy on him. It's a big adjustment - for both of us, but we're talking and figuring things out together."

Tobias barked out a laugh. "You, talking? It must be love." The laughter was short-lived, however! Seeing Gibbs clenching and unclenching his fist, Tobias had one thought: 'He wouldn't smack me, would he?'

Backing Tobias down with a glare, Gibbs asked, "I suppose now you're going to make it your life's work to give me shit about this?"

With dramatic, feigned indignation, Tobias replied, "Please, Gibbs! I'm deeply hurt."

Before Gibbs could open the car door, Tobias reached over and grabbed his arm.

"Hey, all kidding aside, I'm here if you need to talk. I really hope this thing with DiNozzo works out for you," he stated with sincerity before getting in one final jab. "Now, if you don't mind, some of us need to go to work. Talk to you later. Oh, and uh, don't worry, my lips are sealed."

Gibbs rolled his eyes and climbed out of the car.

With Tony back at work, Gibbs had time alone to focus on what lie ahead - rebuilding his house and his life one brick at a time. Careful planning and honest communication would be required for both. Gibbs could no longer hide behind the lone wolf facade. One thing was certain; once he made love to Tony, or Tony made love to him, whichever way it happened, there would be no turning back. In Gibbs' mind and in his heart, this was it. He was in equal measure excited and terrified.

Gibbs made a mental note to set up a meeting with Leon Vance, who had the power to derail both of their careers. He would plead his case that the team supported them and that Tony would get no special treatment. Head slaps would still be doled out as needed. Gibbs would argue that despite his antics, Tony had always been a consummate professional when it came to getting the job done. If his arguments fell on deaf ears, Gibbs would play his trump card and retire.

While he waited for the coffee to take its sweet time filling the carafe, Gibbs pulled the architect's business card Tobias had given him from his wallet. Leaning back against the sink, he ran a finger over the raised embossed lettering. A smile grew on his lips.

* * *

"Out!" Abby admonished flatly as a rack of test tubes rattled, nearly dropping to the floor.

"What? I'm helping," Tony defended.

"You're hovering. And you're staring at my cardboard Gibbs like...well, like he's naked." She raised an eyebrow as if daring him to deny it. "Normally I'd like where your head was at, but McGee and Ziva are waiting for me to finish this." She gestured to the pile of clothing she was currently dissecting for samples.

"And I'm waiting to get your results to them as soon as they're done." Tony crossed his arms beneath his chest. Usually Abby liked his visits. And he hadn't been staring at the make-shift Gibbs she'd assembled beneath the window. Looking maybe, but not…Okay, maybe he had been staring a little. He wondered where in the hell she'd come up with the picture. Gibbs was notorious for avoiding cameras at all costs.

"I'm sure Tim and Ziva need you upstairs running down intel or BOLOs or something. You're the leader without Gibbs here." She waved her hand dismissively and didn't look up from what she was doing.

"I've done it all. And you know I hate waiting. But I can't sit and stare at those stupid orange walls pretending to be busy any longer or I'll go nuts." Tony knew he sounded whiny. He'd spent plenty of days behind a desk doing busy work but now that he couldn't leave? Getting away was the only thing he could think about. He didn't know how he was going to put up with another four hours of being held hostage let alone another four days.

"Fine, you can wait over there." Abby pointed to the corner near the refrigerator. "Or go in the office," she suggested. "Didn't Ducky say you needed to put your leg up?"

Tony's shoulders slumped in defeat. Almost from the moment he'd come in the door this morning his co-workers had been trying to mother him. Tim had hugged him and Ziva had actually brought him coffee. Coffee. From Ziva. Half of the office was treating him like he was some sort of hero and the other half was treating him like an invalid. Why in the world had he thought Abby would be any different? Perhaps he needed to learn to master Gibbs' bear-like growl to keep future coddling at bay.

"You know I still love you, right?" Abby's voice followed him into the office adjacent to the lab.

"I know," Tony said somewhat dejectedly, plopping into a desk chair and pulling out a filing cabinet drawer. The sound of mock-flatulence echoed off the walls as Burt the hippo became his footrest.

The truth was, getting his head into his work while thinking about Gibbs back at his apartment was damn near impossible. And Tony had to face facts, NCIS without Gibbs, even for a week, was like pizza without cheese. You could still eat it, but there was no denying that the very best part was missing.

Flipping on Abby's computer, Tony logged in and checked the status on the two BOLOs he had out. Neither had turned up anything promising yet and without their two prime suspects, everyone was just spinning their wheels for the moment.

Tony stared at the screen until his mind began to drift, as it almost always did now if left unchecked, to Gibbs.

The goodbye kiss from that morning was still fresh in Tony's head. The whole thing had just felt so completely…domestic. He and Gibbs now shared a bed, they shared the morning paper over coffee, hell, they even shared toothpaste when one ran out. More often than not they shared a shower, though now that Gibbs had his cast off Tony wondered how long they would keep that up. He'd grown accustomed to washing Gibbs' back, his hair, to reaching around and gently tracing the curve of his collar bone, learning his not-yet lover's body in ways he'd never taken the time to with others in his past. In some ways the forced slow pace was absolutely maddening, and yet it seemed the temptation, the frustratingly brutal enticement of warm skin beneath his fingers and a hard cock against his thigh, was building toward something neither one of them was going to be able to contain for much longer.

Until very recently his fantasies about Gibbs had been rather vague. The feel of hard heavy muscle pressing him back, back, up against the lip of the workbench, the perfect curve of a boat rib, the handrail of the elevator. Delightfully calloused hands skimming his flesh, knotting in his hair, stroking his cock until he begged, begged for release. Until last week the feel of Gibbs' lips had been an illusion painted with the brushstrokes of memory, a culmination of Tony's favorite kisses, masculine and feminine, mixed with the blend of thoroughness and single minded passion that inhabited everything Gibbs did.

Those fantasies had developed flesh and bone in the last several days. The weight of Jethro's body against his was a living thing now, the feel of rough hands against his skin a fresh memory. The kisses he could almost feel against his lips now carried the surprisingly soft fullness of Gibbs' mouth, the indescribable taste of him, the needy urgency and teasing flicks of tongue that always warred with each other to send his body into a complete spiral of desire.

Tony's tongue shot out to moisten his lips as his fingers dug into the soft plush of the arm rest. He wanted to feel that eager, talented mouth everywhere on his flesh, wanted the nip and scrape of teeth against his collar bone, his nipples, his belly. God help him he wanted, wanted Gibbs' lips around his cock, moving, twisting, suckling at his balls. He could hear the deliciously wet sounds of it, feel the tug at his belly, his spine, as everything tightened and his body prepared to let go.

"What are you thinking about?"

Tony's eyes flew open and reality fell on him like a wet blanket as he remembered he was still at Abby's desk. Blinking once and realizing his little foray into fantasy land had had some real time consequences for his dick, he quickly pulled his foot off the file drawer and slid into the hollow of the desk, effectively hiding his jutting erection from view. It was far too much to believe it had escaped Abby's notice. "Just thinking about the case." Tony covered ineffectively.

"Oh, don't even try that with me, Tony DiNozzo." Abby grinned lasciviously. "You're in my office at my desk. I deserve details." She pressed her hands together eagerly.

"First of all? No way. Second? Gibbs would kill me. And maybe you too. Third? No way." Tony tried to will his cock to lose its interest quickly but it didn't seem to be working.

"Come on." Abby whined. "It had to be juicy. There were noises." Her eyes took on a decidedly evil glow.

"There weren't!" Tony yipped.

"There were." The last word was a drawn out purr.

"Don't you have work to do? Isn't that why you kicked me out in the first place?" Tony made a desperate attempt to change the path of conversation.

"Done." Abby brandished a thin folder triumphantly.

"And?" Tony stretched for the folder without allowing his lower half to leave the sheltering confines of the darkness beneath the desk but Abby held it just out of his reach.

"And you've got everything you need to wrap this up as soon as you find your suspects and wring a confession out of them. Analysis confirms the victim's blood all over the clothing they recovered from the apartment. Not only that, but McGee and Ziva just dropped off the likely murder weapon down in evidence to be logged in. All you need to do is run this upstairs to them." She dangled the folder with a smug grin.

"I'll run it up in a minute," he grumbled.

"Problem, Tony?" Her voice dripped with saccharine sweetness.

"Kind of," Tony confessed grudgingly. There would be no winning this war so early surrender was ultimately his best friend.

"Serves you right for not sharing." Abby plunked the file down next to him on the desk. "Oh! Since I have you prisoner in my lair, I can show you this amazing new Mold-A-Day calendar that my friend Eugene sent me. He's a Paleobotanist." Her eyes went from wicked to delighted in the space of an instant and she sidled in next to him.

'Well, this ought to pretty much solve the other problem', Tony thought as Abby launched into a detailed description of the aforementioned fungi.

Six hours after his rather embarrassing slip in the lab, Tony was more than ready to go home. As eager as he had been to return to work as normal, he had to admit, the now eleven hour day was taking its toll. His leg throbbed stubbornly even though he'd followed Ducky's instructions to the letter and he was pretty sure the two ibuprofen he'd downed after lunch were wearing off.

Their suspects had been found at a truck stop outside of DC and it had taken a disappointingly short amount of time to squeeze a confession out of the apparent ring leader when he was confronted with the mountain of evidence Tony piled before him. It was the first time he'd felt useful all day long.

Tony had put the final touches on his portion of the paperwork and was just waiting for Ziva and McGee to return from holding before he finally took off.

Hearing a muffled 'ping' from inside his desk drawer, Tony quickly pulled out his cell and gazed in astonishment at the name on his screen. Gibbs was texting him again. And this time without him initiating things. Perhaps calling it miraculous would be stretching but to Tony, it sure as hell felt that way.

_U done yet?_

Tony smiled at the words as a tiny thrill shot through him. Gibbs was thinking about him. It was a small but significant victory.

_Just wrapping up._

He pressed send and bit his lip, began typing again.

_Been thinking about U._

This time he waited.

_Should be thinking about the job._

His fingers hesitated over the keys this time and he was rewarded with another alert.

_Thinking about U 2. Wrap it up._

Grinning like an idiot, Tony sent his response.

_On it, Boss._

The sound of someone clearing their throat very nearby made Tony jump and nearly drop his phone. Leon Vance was standing directly in front of his desk chewing thoughtfully on a toothpick, a stack of files in his hands.

"Agent DiNozzo," Vance greeted, a hint of amusement coloring his voice. "How was your first day back?"

"Good, Director. If you like being chained to a desk." Tony stood and set the phone carefully back in his drawer.

"Must have been a good message," Vance laid the files on the desk, eyes flickering down to the drawer.

"Just a friend. We're talking about meeting up after work," Tony lied smoothly. "Is there something I can help you with, Director?"

Vance studied him with curious eyes. "How is Agent Gibbs? Everything working out between you two?" He let the question hang there a moment. "As temporary roommates, I mean."

Tony kept his face unreadable. This was a game he could play. "A few bumps along the way, but we haven't killed each other yet. You know Gibbs. He's dying to get back as soon as he can. Doesn't do well if you leave him alone with his head for too long." He could give just enough to make it sound natural without giving anything he shouldn't. It was a skill he had honed since childhood.

Silence hung heavily between them for a few seconds. "Of course. That's why I came by, actually. I'd like to get his opinion on some of these communications. I've already cleared his participation with Doctor Mallard. I'd appreciate you taking them to him."

Trying not to show that every muscle in his body had just relaxed by a significant fraction, Tony reached for the files. "I'm sure he'll be happy to. Might keep him from trying to show up to work for at least another day." He tucked them into his bag just as another 'ping' sounded from the confines of his desk.

"You should probably get that." Vance nodded toward the sound but didn't move.

"I'm sure it will wait." Tony sat down and turned to his computer, feigning engagement until Vance's shadow shifted toward the stairs.

Studying Tony's profile as he departed, Leon gave a half chuckle as he began his ascent. "Tell Gibbs I said hello."

Knowing that Vance suspected something but had no proof and would likely not go looking for any, Tony pulled out his phone and read the single word from Gibbs.

_Hurry._


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, here's where we bring that M rating. Hide the small children and houseplants from the heat of this chapter!

****

Except for ironing his shirts with enough starch in the collars and cuffs to pass muster, Gibbs wasn't known for possessing a domestic side.  Hard-wired with Marine Corps order and discipline, he could probably still make a Drill Sergeant proud by bouncing a quarter high off of his expertly made bed.  His sparsely furnished house had always been kept neat and tidy; a place for everything, and everything in its place.  When it came to furnishings and appointments, functionality ruled over keeping up with the latest trends.  

Being a seasoned bachelor, Gibbs knew his way around the kitchen well enough not to starve, but his repertoire consisted mostly of meat and potatoes fare.  He was, without a doubt, a master at the art of grilling, but few people knew that he could cook more than perfect steaks and juicy, mouth-watering burgers.  Thanks to the "How to Boil Water" beginners cookbook that one of the exes left behind, probably Stephanie, Gibbs managed to find a few recipes he could handle. 

Assuming Tony would leave work at a somewhat normal time, Gibbs had a few hours to prepare his favorite dish for dinner; good old-fashioned beef stew.  After a cursory inspection of the contents of the refrigerator, Gibbs grabbed his wallet and keys and headed out into the warm and muggy June afternoon.  Forty minutes later he returned with three shopping bags filled with all of the ingredients he would need.  A loaf of fresh sourdough bread and a bottle of Argentinian Malbec would complete the meal. 

While lightly floured cubes of beef browned in a skillet, Gibbs chopped up a mountain of fresh vegetables.  As expected, like any good Italian cook, Tony had a spice rack filled with bottles of every conceivable herb and spice known to man.  With the stew seasoned to his liking and slow-simmering on the stove, Gibbs grew restless.  Hanging around the house with nothing to occupy his mind or his hands was not in his nature; a man of leisure he was not. 

God, he really missed his workshop!  Whether putting away tools, sweeping up a huge pile of wood shavings and sawdust, or getting lost in the design or building process, that time always had purpose and meaning.  Hell, even cleaning out the garage was preferable to lounging around, but sadly that was no longer an option either.  He had to settle for tidying up the mess he had made in the kitchen.

Gibbs' thoughts turned to his earlier phone conversation. He hadn't considered rebuilding his house in any way other than to its original design and specs, but one phone call to Rick Foster, founder and managing partner at the architectural firm of Foster & Graves, left him open to the possibility of making a change.  Rick knew the architecture of the area well, and informed Gibbs that he had some ideas to update his and other homes in the area.  The man seemed eager to meet and discuss some plans he had already been working on, so Gibbs agreed to meet him at his downtown D.C. office tomorrow at 1300.

Leaning on the kitchen island, Gibbs looked out into the living room and sighed.  All of the built-in bookcases lining the walls were filled with books, DVDs, framed photos, and several artsy-looking knick-knacks, none of which would ever be found in his house.  It was time to turn the tables and do a little snooping of his own to get some insight into Tony's life and interests. 

Gibbs had no idea that Tony had such eclectic tastes in music.  He could tolerate the noise Abby called music, but Tony's personal collection leaned more toward jazz, swing, classic rock and oldies compilations with some classical thrown in for good measure.  The sheer number of movies filling several shelves was staggering, but not surprising.  Chances were he had heard Tony recite lines from each and every one of them over the course of the last ten years.  The next section of shelves held an interesting assortment of books.  Biographies and autobiographies of sports legends shared space with true crime novels, mysteries, science, world history, art, music, and, much to Gibbs' surprise, a few historical romance novels.

Gibbs wondered just how few people knew the _real_ Tony DiNozzo; the intelligent, well-read, deep, introspective side he seemed to hide from the world.  He doubted it was very many.  Class and simple elegance were subtly manifest in everything the man possessed, yet there was nothing pretentious about any of it.  It was just Tony.  Taking in a panoramic glance around the room, Gibbs wondered what Tony's high-end furnishings and elegant personal touches would look like in his house but dismissed the notion.  It was, after all, a moot point.

Gibbs' final stop in his investigation was the scattered array of framed photos displayed on top of the baby grand piano.  Some of the photos were obviously from his college fraternity days, but most of them were candid shots Tony had taken of the team over the years.  He picked up a 5x7 polished nickel frame and grinned at the glass-encased picture.  Who had taken it, Gibbs couldn't say, but his gut told him it was most likely Abby.  It was taken at an intra-agency softball game five years earlier.  Gibbs had hit a home run, and was greeted at home plate by Tony, who scored from second base.  Their beaming smiles as they high-fived were captured for posterity.

Still smiling, he returned the picture to its rightful place.  Then, Leroy Jethro Gibbs did the unthinkable.  He pulled out his phone and sent a text. 

_"U done yet?"_

The clandestine exchange was brief, but he hoped it had the desired of effect of putting a smile on Tony's face.  He could almost picture the initial look of shock and wondered just how Tony would explain it to McGee, or whoever was in the vicinity at the time.  With a satisfied smirk on his lips, Gibbs returned to the kitchen to put the finishing touches on dinner and set the table. 

He was slicing the oven-warmed loaf of fresh sourdough bread he had picked up around the corner when he heard the door open and shut followed by the sound of Tony's keys skidding across the small marble-topped table in the entryway.  Wielding the large serrated knife, Gibbs turned to find Tony leaning casually against the fridge, loosening his tie with one finger while scanning him from head to toe.

"Mmmm, something smells good.  What's for dinner?" Tony asked.

A bit unnerved by Tony's overtly seductive posture, Gibbs cleared his throat.  "Stew.  Homemade," he replied. 

Momentarily wide-eyed, Gibbs set the knife down and conducted a cursory assessment of his own as Tony pushed off of the fridge and sauntered over to him, unbuttoning his shirt along the way until they were nearly toe to toe.  Tony's eyes were dark and ominous but still twinkled with a hint of mischief as he peeled off his shirt and tossed it on the granite countertop.  His tongue snaked out to wet full lips set in a predatory grin. 

Finding himself backed up against the center island and imprisoned by Tony's strong arms, Gibbs had no choice but to let him take the lead.  His hope that his gradually tenting shorts weren't giving him away was dashed when Tony pressed up against him and began kissing and nibbling his neck.

"You smell good too," Tony murmured before tormenting the shell of Gibbs' ear with the tip his tongue.  His right hand found its way between them and came to rest over the fly of Gibbs' khaki shorts.  "Ah, I think someone is happy to see me."  Tony waggled his eyebrows and returned to nibbling.  Gibbs responded by letting out a shaky breath he didn't realize he was holding.

He slammed his eyes shut in a futile attempt to maintain some semblance of control.  The dual assault on his dick and neck left his mind reeling.  His breathing became ragged and he began to tremble.  Things were quickly spinning out of control, but Gibbs was powerless to stop it even if he wanted to, which, truth be told, he didn't.  Any thoughts of protesting were dashed when his lips were captured by Tony's. 

 _Goddamit, DiNozzo can kiss'_ , Gibbs thought as he willingly opened up to invite Tony's tongue in to play with his.  He moaned when Tony cradled his face in his hands and took possession of his mouth.  Feeling Tony's hard cock pressed against his thigh told Gibbs that they were fast approaching the point of no return.  All he could do was hold on as his breath was literally taken away.

Tony broke the kiss and smiled, his eyes now flashing with unbridled desire.  Gibbs' heart skipped a beat when the snap of his shorts was popped and he felt his zipper slowly being lowered over his erection. 

"You know, sometimes when I was a good boy, my mom would let me have my dessert before dinner," Tony said in a husky tone that dripped with need.  Running his hands up under Gibbs' shirt, he purred, "And I was a _really_ good boy today, so I'm gonna have my dessert now.  Let me, Jethro, please?"

Rendered speechless by Tony dropping to his knees and looking up at him through long lashes with a look of total adoration, Gibbs stroked Tony's flushed cheek with the backs of his fingers and nodded his consent.  The sweet, genuine smile he received made him that last little bit harder.  Their eyes remained locked as Tony gently pulled his shorts and boxers down until they lay pooled at his feet. 

"Damn, Gibbs," Tony said as Gibbs' cock sprang free and slapped against his abs. 

 If Tony was intimidated by the length and girth of his cock, he didn't let it show.  Long, slender fingers wrapped around him and began stroking, setting every nerve in Gibbs' body on edge.

Gibbs sucked in a breath as Tony lapped up the drops of precum oozing from the tip.  This was it; the pivotal moment when everything changed and became all too real.  It was an agonizing few seconds until he felt the flat pad of Tony's tongue travel from base to the tip up along the prominent vein on the underside, finishing with a flourish of swirls around the dark purple head.

 "Jesus," Gibbs moaned as more precum was coaxed out of the slit.  He grasped the edge of the counter until the knuckles of both hands turned white.  Gibbs had just enough time to remind himself to breathe when he felt Tony's lips make contact with the sensitive swollen head as he began suckling.  He chanced a glance down and his breath caught when his length began to slowly disappear into the warm cavern of Tony's eager, hungry mouth.

 Any question of Tony's experience giving head was answered when he began sucking and bobbing in earnest, taking Gibbs deeper and deeper.  Tony kept him on edge by alternating strong suction with a series of licks, nips, and kisses.  How Tony knew that grazing the head with a gentle scrape of his teeth would drive him wild was a mystery.  Gibbs wanted and needed to thrust his hips to delve even deeper into the warmth of Tony's mouth, but strong hands held him fast as Tony feasted on him like a starving man.

 Tony must have sensed Gibbs' need as he pulled off but kept stroking with his hand.  "You okay?  Not hurting you, am I?" he asked. 

Gibbs throat was dry as dust, but he managed to shake his head and croak out a pained and panted, "No.  God Tony - so good.  Want more, need more."

 Tony, always eager to please, did not disappoint.  "Whatever you need, Jethro - take it.  I can handle it," he replied, holding his hands out from his sides in willing surrender.  It wasn't a power exchange in the classic sense, but sweet submission none the less. 

 The trust and understanding in Tony's eyes brought a long-time fantasy to life.  Gibbs swallowed hard.   "Jerk yourself off," he pled with a needy growl. "I wanna watch."

 Within seconds, Tony's pants were cast aside and he was back on his knees stroking himself.  He smirked up at Gibbs, who was paying rapt attention, then sat back on his feet, closed his eyes, and opened his mouth in blatant invitation.  Gibbs released his grip on the counter and gently held Tony's head in place.  Taking care not to make him gag, Gibbs slid his dick in and began a series of slow, shallow thrusts.  

 Tony's lips closed around him and he began to hum.  The vibration added to the already incredible sensation, and Gibbs fought valiantly to hang on to his control. Tony continued to stroke his weeping erection in time with Gibbs' gradually deepening thrusts.

 "C'mon Tony, I wanna see you come," Gibbs panted, pulling out of Tony's mouth so he could watch.  He squeezed the base of his cock tightly as the erotic scene played out before him. 

Tony was a picture of pure wanton bliss as he raced toward completion.  Sweat beaded on his brow, his mouth opening and closing as he panted for breath. It wasn't long before he threw his head back and came hard with Jethro's name of his lips, spurting his release out onto his chest and abs. 

Tony DiNozzo in the throes of an orgasm was by far the sexiest thing Gibbs had ever witnessed.  He was prepared to finish himself off while Tony came down from his high, but found his hand slapped away after just a few strokes.  The warm, wet, hungry mouth returned to worship his dick with renewed vigor. 

 Gibbs gasped as his climax grew unabated.  His last blow job was now a distant memory.  "OH GOD!" he called out as Tony took his whole length deep into his throat and swallowed hard.  His fingers dug into Tony's muscular shoulders, certain to leave fingertip-shaped bruises.  The intensity of his orgasm caused bright lights to flash behind his eyelids.  His cocked pulsed repeatedly as Tony drank down every drop until he was utterly spent. 

 Gibbs feared his wobbly legs would give out, and if not for the strong arms holding him up he no doubt would have collapsed.  Tony rose to his feet, keeping Gibbs steady until they stood eye to eye.

 Flushed and out of breath, they leaned into each other until their foreheads met.  Gibbs was the first to attempt to speak when the orgasmic haze began to clear. 

 "Jesus, Tony.  That was - incredible," he muttered.

 Tony kissed the tip of Gibbs' nose.  "God, I have been dreaming of doing that for, well, years.  Totally worth the wait.  Can't wait to do it again."

 Gibbs' groan morphed into a chuckle.  "I can't wait to return the favor."

 Tony pulled back to arm's length and looked at Gibbs with what could only be described as sheer and utter disbelief.  He blinked a few times.  _'I did **not** hear that right!  Gibbs sucking **my** dick?  Yeah, good luck with that,' _ he thought. 

 Before Tony got a chance to laugh away the absurdity of that thought, Gibbs kissed him soundly, getting a taste of his essence lingering on Tony's lips. 

"Yeah Tony, me sucking your dick," Gibbs stated with a half-smirk, causing Tony's jaw to drop.

 _Ho_ _w does he do that?'_ Tony questioned before mentally head slapping himself.  _Of course he knows what you're thinking, you idiot - he's Gibbs!'_ Tony barked out a nervous laugh.

There they stood, in the middle of the kitchen locked in a staring contest, with Gibbs naked from the waist down, his shorts and undies still pooled at his feet, and Tony wearing only his socks and the cum he had splattered all over himself.  The staring turned into rapid blinking as the realization of what had just happened hit them both with full force.   Gibbs was at a loss for words, and from Tony's stunned expression he wasn’t faring much better.  The pair suddenly burst out laughing, clinging to each other for support until their fits of awkward giggles subsided. 

Back under control, Gibbs crouched down and carefully pulled up his shorts.

"Shit, Gibbs, your ribs!  Oh my God, I wasn't thinking!  Are you okay?" Tony blurted out.

To assuage any guilt, Gibbs pulled Tony close and kissed him.  "M'fine.  Great, actually.  Best I've felt in a long time.  Now, dinner's pretty much ready, so why don't you go get cleaned up, and for God's sake put some clothes on!"  He turned a smirking Tony around, landed a stinging swat on his bare butt, then gave him a gentle shove toward the bedroom.

 

* * *

Tony lay on his side atop the bed, head cocked against his shoulder as he contemplated Gibbs across the few inches of mattress between them.  The heady scent of the other man’s sex still filled his nostrils, vastly overriding the memory of the delicious stew they had both enjoyed once they’d been able to pull themselves out of their sated pile up against the kitchen counter.

There hadn’t been too much discussion. Neither one of them seemed to feel the need to over analyze what had happened. As with many things where Gibbs was concerned, actions spoke much louder than words. In this case, there was no denying that Jethro let his thigh linger against Tony’s beneath the table while they ate in silence, let his fingers trace the curve of his back as Tony stood at the sink doing dishes. Tony had to admit that his own physical awareness of Gibbs seemed to have increased exponentially in the space of one sexual act.

Gibbs had admonished him playfully a few times during the meal and afterwards as they cleaned up for, what he termed, Tony’s shit-eating grin, but it seemed to be completely beyond him to stop. Every time he thought of Jethro’s lust-driven groans and curses, each time the image of his pleasure-wracked body rose in Tony’s head, a shudder chased up his spine and stirred his cock. The smile just followed automatically and he didn’t even make an attempt to control it.

Raising his fingers to his nose, Tony sniffed tentatively and grinned. It might have been his imagination, but he would swear the intoxicatingly musky smell lingered on his skin despite the fact that he had washed up a few times since he’d licked the last drops of cum from Gibbs’ flesh.

“You’re staring again.” A smile tugged at the corner of Gibbs’ mouth as he turned his head toward Tony and opened his eyes.

“Not staring, just thinking,” Tony argued gently. His hand snuck beneath the sheet and settled on the flat of Gibbs’ belly, thumb tracing a slow pattern across warm skin.

“’Bout?” Jethro watched him curiously.

“You.” He saw no reason to hide the truth.

“Sure as hell hope you wouldn’t be thinking about anyone else at a time like this,” Gibbs chided, swiping his fingers across the back of Tony’s hand before carefully propping himself up on an elbow.

“All you,” Tony assured him. “No room for anyone else in my head right now. Especially not after…you know, earlier.” He forced himself to meet Jethro’s eyes and not hide from the fact that he was still having a hard time believing it had all really happened. 

Gibbs’ fingers crept beneath Tony’s jaw and his thumb swept over swollen lips. “I liked earlier,” he said huskily.

Moving his mouth against the rough pad of Jethro’s thumb, Tony parted his lips and flicked his tongue against its tip before dragging his teeth over the well-worn swirls and ridges.  “I liked it too.”

“Glad we agree on that much.” Gibbs’ voice was lower now, quieter, and Tony could feel the heat behind it as his own body flushed with the beginnings of desire. Something was weighing on his mind though, something he thought they really needed to get out of the way sooner rather than later.

“What else do you like? With men, I mean?” Tony ventured hesitantly.

Gibbs studied him for a moment, letting his hand drop down. He didn’t break contact though, and his fingers began to toy idly with the hair on Tony’s chest as he clearly tried to decide how to answer the question. “Guess I don’t really know. Only been with one man and it sure as hell wasn’t something I expected to like. Randy knew what I needed before I did. After Shannon, I didn’t know how to be with another woman. Didn’t want to be. He showed me that there was more out there, a reason to keep going without me even realizing that’s what he was doing. Pretty sure he saved my damn life. No woman could have given me what he did back then. I’d never have let them close enough. Somehow being with him was…simpler, less complicated. We cared about each other but not in a way I’d ever known with Shannon. I didn’t spend time analyzing what I felt for him, and he didn’t ask for anything I couldn’t give him. But if anyone had told me I’d want to be with another man after he was gone, I would have laughed in their face.”

“Oh.” Tony dropped his eyes down but found it impossible to keep the disappointment from his voice. He was pretty sure his picture was in the dictionary under ‘complicated’. “I guess I can understand why.”

“Hey. This isn’t that,” Jethro was quick to reassure him. “If it was, I wouldn’t be here right now. I know who you are, Tony. I know what I signed up for.”

Stretching forward, Tony brushed Gibbs’ lips with his own. In truth, he wanted to push him back into the mattress and fuck him until they were both too tired, sore, and spent to keep going, but a chaste kiss would have to suffice for the moment. “So, back to the original question…” Tony steered them back to more productive territory.

“’Fraid if you want a better answer, you’re going to have to be more specific.” Gibbs raised an eyebrow.

Tony tried to figure out the very best way to approach the conversation without sounding like an absolute idiot. “Well, I’ve been with a few men. Boarding school was pretty much all about experimentation, then a couple in college, a few since then when I was in the right mood, but definitely more than one. Though I’m pretty sure you already knew that.” He watched Gibbs for confirmation.

“Knew about one or two, suspected a few others.” He shrugged slightly. “Figured it wasn’t exactly a new thing for you and until fairly recently, I didn’t think it was any of my business. Not worried about who you’ve been with before, Tony. Only concerned about who you’re with now and why.”

Tony nodded. He’d never tried to cover his tracks well enough to hide that part of his life from Gibbs. Truth be told, after a few years, he’d wanted him to know, though he couldn’t have explained why, even to himself. But this wasn’t about the past. “Except for a couple times when I was younger and figuring it all out, I guess you could say I’ve taken a certain role with the other men I’ve been with.”

Gibbs’ face remained patiently passive and he was clearly waiting for Tony to spell out exactly what he was trying to say.

“So what I’m getting at is, I’m used to being the one who sort of takes the lead, who takes control.” He watched for any reaction, but Jethro’s face gave away nothing. “The top, Gibbs. I’m used to being the top,” Tony said finally with just a hint of an exasperated sigh. “And I kind of get the feeling that maybe it’s been the same for you and that we’re gonna have some things to, you know, work out in that area before we get there...if we get there.” He fumbled a little bit over the last bit, realizing he was making assumptions. 

“Oh.” Gibbs’ eyes finally showed comprehension and his fingers paused in their motion against Tony’s chest.

“Yeah.” Tony ran a hand through his hair and let out a breath, glad it was all out on the table now.

“You’re right. I guess there are some things to work out. I’m sorry, Tony. I don’t exactly know how all of this works,” Jethro admitted. “Randy and I…he knew what he wanted from me and he made it easy. We didn’t really have to discuss it.”

Tony hesitated just a beat before asking the next obvious question. “So have you even…I mean, were you ever _not_ the top with him?” Somehow he wasn’t ready to attempt applying the word ‘bottom’ to Gibbs until he knew how comfortable the other man was with the whole concept.

“No.” Gibbs said steadily. “I think maybe he knew I wasn’t ready for that? Or maybe he just preferred it that way. Certainly seemed to, as I recall.” He watched Tony carefully as he asked the next question. “So is this gonna be a stopper?”

Stomach clenching at the mere thought that they could come this far only to hit a wall, Tony answered without even really thinking. “No.” He shook his head adamantly. “No. I don’t want it to be. You?”

“Not even close,” Gibbs said sincerely, eyes holding Tony’s with intent. “Any suggestions on where we go from here?”

“I think we go slow, ya know, ease in? Maybe see what the possibilities are for both of us if you’re willing?” Tony said carefully. “It’s not that I’ve never gone there, Jethro, and it’s not that I didn’t enjoy it when I did.” His mind turned inevitably to the thoughts he’d had of Gibbs’ fucking him in the middle of the very bed they were currently lying on and his cock began to stir. “I don’t know if it’s something I’d want to do every time, though.”

“Understood.” The hand that had been stroking Tony’s chest crept lower.

“And you’re not even cleared for…everything yet.” Gibbs’ hand sliding across his belly and up to his hip made his dick go from mildly interested to begging for attention. “So maybe we try some things between now and then? I mean, I don’t think it was just me that thought we did pretty damn well figuring things out tonight.”

“Not just you.” Gibbs confirmed as his fingers began gently kneading the muscle of Tony’s thigh.

“Good. That’s…good.” Tony realized that they had both somehow inched slowly closer to each other during the conversation and that he could now feel the heat from Jethro’s body against his skin. “So we’re going slow?”

“Mmmhmm,” Gibbs’ teeth nipped at the tip of Tony’s chin before his mouth began to work in opened mouthed kisses down his throat.

“Think I like slow,” Tony murmured, holding his breath as Gibbs’ fingers traced the cut of his hip and the heat of a wide palm ghosted over his aching cock.

“Me too.” Jethro closed his fist around Tony’s erection and moved his mouth to swallow the younger man’s groan.

* * *

 

It was Thursday before Gibbs’ boredom and frustration came to an inevitable head.

“What?” Gibbs looked up with an expression that was as close to mock-innocence as Tony had ever seen on the man.

“What?” Tony parroted incredulously from where he had dropped his bag very abruptly beside the door. “There are sawhorses and..and _lumber_ in the middle of the _living room,”_ he sputtered. “And there are tools on top of the bar, Gibbs. The _bar._ It’s an antique.” Gibbs had at least laid them out on a soft cloth and it was the only thing keeping Tony’s feet rooted to the floor.

“Hey,” Gibbs defended, “I put a drop cloth down. I was planning to clean it all up before you got home.” There was a little sawdust floating in the beams of sun streaming through the windows but otherwise things were generally contained.

“Yeah, well I’m home. Vance sent me out early because I’ve been pulling 12 hour days. Pretty sure Ducky got to him.” Tony’s anger waned momentarily in the face of his petulance over being essentially kicked out of the building but returned full force when the full scope of Gibbs’ project became clearer. “But seriously, I can’t… _we_ can’t live with all…this.” He gestured widely at the chaos.                            

“Can’t just sit around here on my ass another day feeling god damn useless.” He tossed the plane down onto the thick chunk of wood in front of him with a heavy ‘thunk’.  

“You have your car, you can take walks. And the files…”

“Fuck the files. Those files were a pathetic distraction. Took me three hours to get through. And yeah, I have the car but…” He seemed to hesitate on this.

“But what?” Tony asked flatly.

“I don’t have any place to go. You’re at work, Fornell’s at work. Jesus, Tony. NCIS and that house were my fucking life. I’m not allowed at one and the other one…” Gibbs shook his head. Tony knew he was putting off going anywhere near the ruins of his home even though he would never admit it.

Tony’s anger diffused slightly in the face of Gibbs’ clear frustration. He knew what the basement had symbolized for Jethro, knew that the loss of his own small fortress of solitude was an injury just as deep and real as his visible wounds and that there was no real substitute Tony could offer him.

“Grab the board,” Tony instructed patiently.

“What?” Gibbs seemed confused by the quick turn of his temper.

“I said grab the board. I’ll get the rest. We can come back for the tools.” Tony waited as Gibbs hesitantly did as requested and then he tucked a sawhorse awkwardly beneath each arm.

Once through the apartment door, Tony headed for the elevator without looking back to see if Gibbs was following. He didn’t want to think about what his neighbors would say now, although someone must have noticed Gibbs dragging all this stuff upstairs in the first place.

“You got a secret Bat Cave I don’t know about, Tony?” Jethro asked as Tony pushed the ‘B’ on the elevator’s grid of buttons.

“You’ll see.” Tony stared straight ahead as the elevator made its descent. He wasn’t sure why he hadn’t thought of this as an option before. Finally, the doors slid open on a floor where dim light reflected dully from pale concrete and caged storage lockers lined the long hallway where he had waited out the storm nearly two weeks ago.

Gibbs glanced over at Tony, an odd expression on his face as the younger man led them down the long row and then turned down a shorter corridor near a small window, eventually stopping in front of one of the cages and dropping the saw horses.

Digging out his keys, Tony found the small and seldom used one which went to the lock on the unit. It was a little tight from disuse and the heavy metal door shrieked as he pulled it open, but the small bulb hanging inside still worked.

“Mostly this is just old books and stuff. A few things from my frat days. Might be a beer bong hiding in one of these boxes somewhere.” Tony began piling boxes in a more orderly manner, clearing out the center of the space. It wasn’t much, but he thought it would do.

“Tony, what..?” Gibbs stood and watched as dust rose is small clouds with each of Tony’s movements.

“We’re making you a basement,” Tony said triumphantly as he waved away the dust that was threatening to make him sneeze and wiped his hands on his pants. “There. That should be enough for now. If you want more space I can probably get rid of some of these. Haven’t even looked at them since I moved in.”

“You’re making me a basement?” Gibbs echoed in disbelief. “What? Here?”

“Only place I’ve got to offer, but it’s a hell of a lot better than the middle of the living room.” Tony stepped out and moved the sawhorses in, took the wood from Gibbs’ hand and laid it in a reasonable approximation of what he had seen upstairs. Then he waited.

Jethro was watching him, clearly deciding how to respond.  

“I’m not kicking you out, Gibbs. I want you with me. But I know you need this too. It’s the best compromise I can offer.” He stood aside, leaving the path clear for Gibbs to enter if he chose.

Gibbs looked at Tony, looked at the make-shift workbench he’d made by leveling out the boxes and totes along one wall, and took a few hesitant steps inside.

Tony’s muscles relaxed and he let out the breath he had been holding unconsciously just as Gibbs made a quick and unexpected turn toward him. Even injured, the man could still move with lighting speed, and Tony found himself pushed back uncomfortably against the hard metal links of the cage wall. Before he had time to object, however, Gibbs’ mouth was on him, dragging across his jaw, pressing against his lips. The slick of Jethro’s tongue forced his lips apart, drove in and claimed him as restless hands slipped around his neck and dove into his hair.

It took mere seconds for shock to fade and Tony’s cock to respond to the heat of Gibbs’ body molding itself to him, lining up carefully, rocking gently against his hips in a way that said if Jethro had a practical means of follow through, they’d be naked right now. All he could do was hold on and try to keep up as Gibbs plundered his mouth thoroughly, leaving him aching and breathless when he finally pulled back and pressed his forehead to Tony’s.

“What was that for?” Tony murmured against Jethro’s mouth as Gibbs continued to nip at his parted lips.

Jethro swiped his nose against Tony’s and dropped feathery kisses against his cheeks before reluctantly pulling away. “I don’t even know where to start.”

* * *

After ferrying the last of Gibbs’ tools down to the new make-shift workshop, Tony lost track of time while he checked email, paid a couple of bills, and started dinner. He was startled to see that it was very nearly dark when he finally heard the front door of the apartment open and Gibbs return from his new retreat a few floors below. Footsteps went off into the bedroom and it was a few minutes before Jethro emerged into the kitchen looking as relaxed as Tony had seen him in days and as delicious as he remembered in a clinging and slightly sweat-dampened white t-shirt. His skin glowed and his eyes had a dark and hungry edge to them that Tony was gradually growing more familiar with.

Rather than standing and watching Tony cook as he usually did when they’d eaten at his house, Gibbs moved in close and wrapped his arms around his waist from behind.

The comfortably familiar and absolutely intoxicating smell of fresh sweat and sawdust filled Tony’s nostrils as the warm rough of Gibbs’ palm slipped beneath the hem of his dress shirt and flattened against his stomach.

“Smells good,” Gibbs practically purred, burying his nose in Tony’s nape. “And whatever you’re cooking looks pretty delicious too.” His words echoed those of their torrid tryst in the kitchen a few days earlier.

Soft lips brushed the space behind Tony’s ear and nearly made him drop the spoon he was stirring with right into the pan of sauce. “Just some marinara. Get it from the lady who owns that little Italian place down the street. Of course I add a few things.” He shuddered as Gibbs’ mouth slid down the side of his throat and then back to the curve of his ear.

“Will it keep?” Jethro asked, voice low and sexier than Tony had even thought possible from him.

Tony swallowed around the suddenly pounding pulse in his throat. “I can let it simmer for a while.” He turned the burner down as low as it would go.

“Good.”

Gibbs pulled away and Tony nearly protested the abrupt loss of solid warmth against his back. “What did you have in mind?” He raised an eyebrow, hoping to hell he was reading Gibbs right because his cock was already hard and aching.

“Think I need a shower before dinner. Thought I could use some help.” Jethro crowded him back against the counter and slipped a hand between their bodies, palming Tony’s dick through the denim of his jeans.

“What the hell happened down in that basement?” Tony managed just as Gibbs’ teeth began to tease at his lower lip.

“Must have missed you.” His tongue slipped easily between Tony’s slightly parted lips and he kissed him long and slow, mouth writing tender promises of things to come.

Tony sighed his disappointment as Gibbs pulled back, but the tug at his hand urging him to follow had him stumbling over his own feet in an effort to keep up.  After shedding his shirt somewhere on the living room floor, Tony was already working the buttons of his fly open when he nearly ran into Gibbs just outside the shower. “You drag that thing out of the closet?” Tony indicated the shower chair which had reappeared along one wall. “Thought you were glad to be rid of it?”

“You really wanna ask questions right now?” Gibbs pushed his khakis from his hips, taking his boxers with them. Stepping carefully, he bent at an awkward angle around still-sore ribs and a swollen cock to release the brace from around his lower leg.

“Hell no.” Tony grinned. Leaning in to start the water running, he tossed the remainder of his clothes into a pile with Jethro’s. His eyes trailed over naked flesh, the narrow cut of Gibbs’ hips, the thick mat of silver hair across his chest, the muscular slope of his shoulders. But it was Jethro’s eyes that had Tony’s cock weeping against his thigh tonight, the dark desire that burrowed and burned into his own flesh as Gibbs stalked forward and backed him up until he was beneath the steamy spray.

When Tony started to reach for Gibbs’ cock, the other man batted his hands away lightly. “Not this time,” Jethro growled. His fingers swept over Tony’s hips and circled around to knead his ass, pulling their bodies together carefully under the cascade of warm water. It poured over their heads and filled the tiny cracks between them as Gibbs resumed the utterly thorough plundering of Tony’s mouth he had begun back in the kitchen.

This carnal side of Gibbs, this restless and needy desire Jethro seemed to have to possess him absolutely, was something Tony had never expected to find lurking so close to the surface, hiding almost in plain sight beneath the bare cover of Gibbs’ generally stoic nature. Firm and hungry lips worked across his jaw, suckled at his earlobe, moved impatiently down his throat to the curve of his shoulder where they paused while the long fingers of one hand slipped into his crack, moved lightly across his hole, teasing but not seeking entrance. He widened his stance slightly, let the probing digits slide in further to stroke his taint and explore his balls while his own fingers tightened in Gibbs’ hair.

Tony felt himself pulled forward just slightly, his lower body still beneath the warmth of the shower as the heat of Gibbs’ mouth moved ever downward, ghosting across his collar bone and sliding down to lap at a flat nipple which peaked and hardened beneath Jethro’s determined teeth and tongue. Realizing that his eyes had fallen closed, Tony opened them to find Gibbs sinking slowly down on the narrow bench seat of the shower chair. “Knew keeping this thing around was a good idea,” he teased, his jocularity an attempted distraction from the growing energy pulsing along every nerve where their bodies connected.

Gibbs looked up at him then and the dying echoes of Tony’s words paled beneath the weight of the much more important ones lurking unspoken in the ice blue heat of that gaze.

Slipping the fingers of one hand behind Jethro’s head, he exerted just the tiniest bit of pressure, gave the answer to the unspoken question hovering between them.

“Need to taste you.” Mouth coming forward and sliding hot and hard over the flat of Tony’s belly, Gibbs mouthed the words of his desire against damp, heated flesh. His tongue slipped out, captured the taste of Tony’s skin and spread it across the roof of his mouth. “All of you.” His lips traced the cut of Tony’s groin, followed the trail to the base of his cock, and circled the thick root of it.

One of Gibbs’ hands still kneaded his bottom but Tony felt the other brushing the sensitive inside of his thighs as Jethro coaxed his knees slightly wider and then dipped in to gently cup his balls. Muscles twitched involuntarily at the delicate friction and he kept a tight rein on his tongue as he fought the urge to beg Gibbs to just suck him, just make him come already.

Watching in rapt fascination as Gibbs’ silver head moved lower and lower, Tony’s individual senses warred for dominion. He wanted the visual memory of Jethro’s mouth opening around him, taking him in, of that velvety soft tongue lapping at his head, but his tactile senses were demanding precedence, sharpening with every second that Gibbs lightly rolled his sack, mouthed at the base of his cock and began to slowly work his way up his shaft. When an eager tongue darted out to worry the overly sensitive ridge around his head, tactile won out and Tony let his heavy eyelids drop closed and his head fall back as he let lose a blissful and shaky moan.

Every fantasy Tony had ever had paled in comparison to the indescribable ecstasy of Jethro’s mouth closing around his cock, swallowing him deep, flexing the straining muscles of his throat to massage his thick shaft while the flat of Jethro’s tongue twisted over his head. “Fuck…oh _fuck…_ don’t…Jesus, don’t stop.” The string of expletives erupted without Tony’s conscious control as his whole body began to tremble.

Gibbs pulled back to get a breath and Tony felt him shift a little just before the perfect pressure of Jethro’s fist closed around his cock and began to work in concert with the now steady rhythm of his bobbing head. The pace was deliciously brutal, fast enough to keep him spiraling higher and higher but slow enough that he couldn’t start to reach for the edge. Jethro kept things varied just enough with little twists and flicks of his tongue that Tony was always on alert, always anticipating the next sweet and unexpected thrill.

The hand working Tony’s balls slid further back, and he felt a wet finger circling his hole, stroking back and forth teasingly but always with just a little more pressure each time. He could tell Gibbs was tentative, testing his limits, and so he gave just a little encouragement, rolling his hips and pressing into the intensely intimate touch. “Feels so fucking good, Jethro…so fucking good,” Tony panted, feeling the muscles in his belly and thighs start to pulse in anticipation.

The heat around his hips was tight and rising slowly up his spine now. Gibbs was picking up the pace and Tony knew his jaw had to be cramping a little, pushing him to finish. He gasped and shuddered as Jethro’s finger slid knuckle deep into his ass, but the momentary discomfort of the invasion was overridden by the pleasure pulsing hard through his body.

“More,” Tony begged. He stepped forward, straddling Gibbs’ thighs and using his shoulders for leverage as he sank down and rose up again, giving permission but taking what he wanted for himself until Jethro’s finger began to move in the rhythm he needed. Fingers digging deep into hard muscle, Tony’s whole body convulsed with the unexpected curling stroke against his inner walls that made control a distant memory.

“Close…so fucking close.” He tried to tap out, to give Gibbs the opportunity to pull off if he wanted, but Jethro only tightened his mouth a little more, looked up to _watch_ with blown pupils as Tony went over the edge. “Oh fuck, I’m gonna… _fuck_ I’m coming…Gibbs… _Jethro…fuck!_ ” The spiraling heat in his belly sharpened, exploded with crystalline clarity as his whole body shook and throbbed with agonizing jolts of pleasure.

Heaviness stole through his limbs as he emptied himself down Jethro’s throat and he continued to shudder and tremble with each stroke that drained him utterly. Sighing brokenly at the sweet relief of post orgasmic bliss and still unable to wrap his head around the fact that Gibbs had just sucked him off in his own shower, Tony was unable to stifle the tiny noise of disappointment that came when Jethro’s soft mouth finally released him and the thick finger withdrew from his ass, leaving him empty with the sweet aching memory of fullness. He tried to take a step backwards, tried to straighten up, but his thighs felt like jello and his feet slipped against the tiles.

“Sit,” Gibbs ordered gently, pulling at Tony’s hips. He extended his wounded leg out so it wouldn’t take the extra weight.

“You sure?” Right now his options were either Gibbs’ lap or the floor and he really needed to decide soon.

“’M fine,” Gibbs reassured him.

Tony settled most of his weight onto Jethro’s thighs, watching him carefully for signs of discomfort. When he was fully seated he wrapped his arms around Gibbs’ neck and leaned in to kiss him, gathering his own taste from the other man’s lips. “That was so fucking hot,” he murmured against Gibbs’ open mouth. “If this is what a few hours of woodworking gets me, I am all in favor of more basement time.”

“Don’t think I need that to be in the mood for you.” Gibbs sounded almost surprised by this as he suckled Tony’s lower lip and ran his hands up and down moisture-beaded flesh.

Tony reached between their bodies to stroke Jethro’s undiminished erection. “You know, I think the sauce could stand to go a little longer.”

“Yeah?” Gibbs fingers began to move restlessly.

“Oh yeah.” Tony swallowed his groans as he began to jerk Gibbs off in earnest, wondering how in the world he could have gone fourteen years without this.

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've affectionately titled this chapter "Dueling Blowjobs". We hope it wasn't too much to swallow *ahem* in one sitting.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McGee makes an eye-opening discovery creating an awkward exchange with Tony, Ducky offers his personal and professional advice, and Gibbs does a bit of "research". All leading up to a dramatic shift in Tony and Gibbs' relationship!

Something was different.

Not the obvious kind of different that you could immediately put your finger on, or the kind which was noticeable to anyone other than those who'd spent an average of 12 hours a day, 6 days a week, for 11 years with Tony and Gibbs, but definitely something. It was the subtle kind of different you had to squint really hard to see, but when you did, there was absolutely no denying it was there.

DiNozzo was DiNozzo just like always and now that he was cleared for field work again there was no end to his restless bravado and bluster. The emergence of Gibbs from the elevator after an early MTAC meeting with Vance did seem to temper his mischievousness somewhat. At the very least it lowered his volume. But there was something else behind the looks he gave Gibbs, something deeper passing between them beneath the usual cover current of jumpy awkwardness.

Tim was pretty sure Ziva had noticed it too, but perhaps knew less what to make of it than he did. She'd spent the first hour of Gibbs' first day back watching with sharp eyes and a heavily contemplative look on her face, the next with her mouth clamped tightly shut. She seemed on the very verge of asking a question she didn't yet know how to put words to or perhaps one she didn't really want answered.

In Abby's case, she'd just beamed back and forth between the two as the team welcomed back Gibbs, nearly bursting at the seams with enthusiasm. Thankfully it could be easily waved away as a combination of her own general excitability and her relief at having "her team" back in one place. Only Tim really knew different and truly understood the decidedly self-satisfied tilt of her smile.

To Tim's quietly observant eye, even Ducky seemed somewhat affected, watching the interactions of the group thoughtfully and perhaps a bit more reticently than usual until Vance trotted down the steps to break up their reunion and remind them that they had work to do.

For his part, McGee was amused more than anything. Watching Tony nearly trip over his own tongue doing his best to bring Gibbs up to speed on the cases they had worked in his absence was more entertaining than usual. After they all sat down to catch up on emails and the latest international chatter from over the weekend, Tim didn't miss the constant watchful glances across the bullpen from beneath long lashes, or the fact that if Gibbs so much as breathed wrong or, God forbid, coughed, Tony's ass was an inch or two out of his chair before he could stop himself.

Gibbs, if anything, seemed more Gibbs than normal. He barked probing questions at each of them in turn during the run down, cradling his coffee in his palm like his very life depended on it. And if there was, perhaps, a little less bite behind the bark where Tony was concerned, McGee didn't think anyone else was the wiser.

The sound of Gibbs' cell pierced the quieter than usual space between them.

"Yeah, Gibbs." Tim's head came up hopefully, followed closely by Ziva's. Tony looked as though he was steeling himself for a fight.

"Got it." Gibbs flipped his phone closed after a few minutes but remained seated. He continued scribbling down some notes while he tossed out orders without bothering to look up.

"Metro PD turned up a 9mm that matches ballistics on your drive by shooting outside Pax River last week. Gun owner is out of the District so Metro's letting us take the lead." He finally looked up, blue eyes sweeping the bullpen in its entirety, clear, focused, and intent as always. "DiNozzo, McGee, gun's registered to a Jorge Jimenez in Annapolis. No priors. Pick him up." Gibbs tore a piece of paper out of the scratch pad he'd been jotting notes in and held it up. Tony was fast on his feet and snatching the scrap from between Gibbs' fingers before Ziva was half out of her chair. "Ziver, head down to Metro and bring the gun back for Abby to process and then see what you can dig up on Jimenez. Find out if there's a connection."

Tim looked from Tony to Ziva, whose mouth was half open with a prepared objection. "You sure, Boss? It's Tony's first day back in the field. Ziva could…I mean, she and I were working the original case." The moment the words were out of his mouth, he knew they were a huge mistake.

"Thanks for throwing me under the bus McBenedict Arnold. But there is no way in hell I'm spending another day behind this desk. I'm like a wilting flower. I gotta get out in the sunlight or I'll die." Tony was busily checking his gun and strapping on his shoulder holster amidst his melodramatics.

"Was I unclear McGee? Or have I just been away too long?" Gibbs stood behind his desk and raised an eyebrow.

"No, Boss. I'll go get the vehicles signed out." Tim noticed that Tony was hanging back, making a show of checking his go-bag while he and Ziva double timed it to the elevators. "You coming, Tony?"

"Meet you in the garage after you've gassed up the car, McGee. Gotta hit the head before we hit the road." His tone was as light and jocular as always but Tim saw him head toward Gibbs' desk and linger quietly, fingers brushing lightly against the steel of the desktop. He smiled quietly to himself as the elevator doors slid closed.

* * *

"Stop it."

"What?" Tony relaxed somewhat as the smooth hiss of the elevator doors closing left them relatively alone for a few precious seconds.

"Hovering. 'M fine. Now get your ass out in the field before I kick it out there," Gibbs growled.

"I'm not hovering." Tony's outraged laugh was a bit too loud, a bit too exaggerated.

Gibbs looked up and tilted his head, waiting.

Tony still held back, knowing he was pushing his luck a bit. "So…you feeling okay? No pain? Not too tired?"

"Told you I'm fine. And you won't ask again if you know what's good for you." Gibbs' face was stone but there was just a hint of amusement around the corners of his mouth that gave him away.

"And you won't try to overdo it while we're gone?" Tony had never been one to know what was good for him.

"DiNozzo…"

Tony's fingers pressed into the cool desktop, held his weight as he leaned in just slightly. "You think they…you think they suspect anything?" He pitched his voice to carry to Gibbs' ears alone.

"What exactly would they be suspecting?" There was a warning edge to his voice despite his echo of Tony's whisper.

"You know. You and me," Tony said awkwardly, looking around. "It's just that I kinda thought McGee was looking at me a little funny, and you know Ziva, she's got those beady eyes that just…"

"What did we agree to last night?" Gibbs interrupted.

"Rule number one of 'Us' is that there is no 'Us' at work. Ever," Tony recited automatically. He'd liked the 'Fight Club' sound of it, and Gibbs had made him repeat it until it was drilled into his head. Still…Tim had been looking at him strangely all morning and not even Gibbs was going to convince him otherwise.

"DiNozzo, I swear to God if your ass is not on that elevator by the time I count to 10 there will never be a reason for anyone to suspect anything ever again." Even at much lower than normal volume, there was no question about the implication behind those words. "Now go bring me back someone to interrogate and save the rest for the bedroom, not the bullpen."

Tony pushed off the desk and took a few unconscious steps backwards at the undeniably menacing tone. "Got it." He swung his bag up on his shoulder and trotted for the elevator, turning one last time as he waited for the doors to open. "Good to have you back, Boss." He grinned.

Tony was two floors below so there was no way he could see the oddly amused smile and headshake from Gibbs at his departure.

* * *

The bust had been a bust. The address they'd been given for Jimenez turned out to be an apartment building in the throes of urban decay. There was no security, very little sanitation, and the apartment supposedly belonging to Jimenez was completely cleared out, had been for some time by the look of things. They had tried a few neighbors but everyone seemed to have a very selective memory about the former tenant, and now they were on their way back to NCIS empty handed.

Tim gripped the dashboard as Tony made an abrupt right turn into the parking lot of a strip mall. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Pit stop, McGee." Tony pulled into a spot between a coffee shop and a salon.

"What for?" He glanced down the row of stores which was widely varied.

"Gibbs sent me on a hardware run. Got him set up with some saw horses down in my storage unit and he's turned it into his new basement. Don't think he can fit a boat down there but he just might try if I don't keep an eye on him," Tony explained all too quickly.

"You made him a basement?" Tim grinned at the thought. "That's kinda sweet of you, DiNozzo."

"Hey, it was either that or my living room." Tony put the car in park and pulled out his wallet.

"Your living room?"

"Long story. Listen, here's twenty bucks. I'll hit the hardware store and you grab a black venti for Gibbs and one of those sweet caramel things Ziva's always drinking. Oh, and buy yourself a scone. Meet you back here in fifteen." He dropped the cash in Tim's lap and pushed his door open.

"Who are you and what have you done with Tony DiNozzo?" Tim asked incredulously. Something felt off about the whole situation and he knew he wasn't imagining the fine sheen of sweat on Tony's upper lip that gave away his nervousness.

"What? Can't I do something nice for my team?" he shot at Tim over the roof of the sedan, feigning injury.

"Of course you can, but you never do. Unless of course you want something," Tim said suspiciously.

"I'm offended, McGee. You save my life and you can't even accept that maybe I wanna say 'thank you'? That basement changed me, Tim. Gotta appreciate the people you depend on every day." Tony was really laying it on thick.

"Fine. I'll get the coffee. But I'm getting a chocolate chip muffin." Tim still wasn't buying a word of it but he couldn't come up with a reason to argue with a free muffin.

"That's the spirit, McGee." Tony took off at a half trot down toward the far side of the row of stores where Tim had indeed seen a hardware store as they turned in.

Tim watched Tony for a few seconds, still mistrustful of the whole situation. He ducked into the bustling café but hovered just inside the door where he knew the glare of sunlight off the windows made him invisible. Tony disappeared into the door beneath the hardware store marquee and Tim was just about to turn away when DiNozzo re-emerged, looking around cautiously before lowering his head and slipping into a very distinct red door two stores down.

Smiling like a cat who'd just caught a canary, Tim approached the counter and placed his order. If his suspicions were correct, Tony was gonna be on the hook for a hell of a lot more than a chocolate chip muffin after this.

* * *

Tim was waiting in the car when Tony came out of the hardware store. He'd confirmed his suspicions about Tony's other errand with a quick glance at the marquee above the red door and his only problem now was keeping a straight face. He waited patiently, nibbling at his muffin while Tony slid into the driver's seat.

"How was the hardware store?" Tim grinned widely.

"Fine." Tony's brows drew together. "Think if they sold liquor it would be Gibbs' idea of heaven."

"What'd you get?" he mumbled around a mouthful of crumbs.

"Some ¾ inch screws, wood glue, couple of brackets." Tony shrugged.

Always be specific when you lie. Gibbs had taught Tony well. "Can I see?" Tim reached for the two generic paper bags that Tony was quickly squirreling away behind his seat.

"What? No. Why do you need to see? I just told you what I bought." Shoving the bags as far back as he could, Tony fumbled the keys from his pocket.

"Why don't you want me to see?" Tim countered.

"Because they're Gibbs'. You know how he gets about people touching his tools."

"But you just said they weren't tools. Just screws and stuff."

"Same difference. Why so McCurious all of a sudden?" Tony played at nonchalance as he revved the engine and began to back out of the space.

Tim took his opportunity while Tony checked the driver's side mirror and reached out a long arm to snatch the bags.

"Hey! What did I just say?" Tony slammed on the breaks and made a grab for the packages.

Tim held them out of his reach next to the door. "Why two bags?" Tim knew he had the upper hand now.

"They were out of bigger ones. Damn it McGee, give them back!"

"And why does this one smell like perfume instead of paint and sawdust?" He dropped the bag which he suspected contained exactly what Tony said it did while DiNozzo continued to reach across him for the other bag.

"Fine. You know what, McGee? Go ahead and open it. I don't care." Tony's attempt at reverse psychology was too little, too late, and his face was already three shades redder than normal.

"Come on DiNozzo," he opened the top of the bag still looking at Tony, "you're just pissed because I busted you buying…" Tim looked at the bag's contents, thoroughly prepared for raunchy porn and honey dust, and nearly dropped the whole thing when he saw what was really inside.

"Happy now?" Tony hunched down in his seat and ran a hand through his hair, pouting.

"Holy crap, is that a…"

"Yes." Tony snatched the bag while Tim was still staring at his lap in disbelief.

"But it looks different than the ones I've…I mean, not that I've seen a lot of them… but this one time, Abby…" Tim really felt like he needed to open a window.

"It's not for a chick, McGee. It's made for a guy. That's why it looks different. Are we done with 20 questions now?" Tony put the bag back behind his seat and glared at Tim, clearly more annoyed than embarrassed now. "Yes. I went to the naughty store and bought a dildo. Are you satisfied? Did you want a demonstration?" He leaned toward the passenger seat just slightly.

Tim blinked at him for a few seconds before he found his voice. "N-No. That's…we're good, Tony. I'm sorry."

"So we will never speak of this again, right? And before you answer that, I want you to think really hard about why it might be important to agree." Tony didn't budge and Tim found himself trapped by deadly serious grey-green eyes.

"Never again," Tim confirmed, squirming just a little. Jesus, he did not want to think about what Tony was implying.

"Good." Tony sat upright again and resumed the process of backing out.

They had made it a few blocks before Tim's shock wore off a little and curiosity began to gnaw at the back of his brain. Chancing a glance at Tony out of the corner of his eye and scooting as close to the door as he could, he asked a question before he could stop himself. "So…is that thing for you, or..?"

"DiNozzo's rule number six, McGee: Never ask a question you don't want the answer to." Tony kept his eyes fixed to the road ahead. "Also? What part of 'never again' did we fail to agree on?"

"Right. You're right. Never again." There were unwelcome images in his brain making him alternately light headed and slightly nauseous and he really wanted them to go away.

"Good. You gonna eat the rest of that?" Tony reached for the half-eaten muffin and Tim let it go without protest.

* * *

Sitting on his ass behind a desk was a tough pill for Gibbs to swallow. He had complete faith in Tony's pro tem leadership, of course, but he hated being relegated to the sideline. It simply wasn't in his nature. His protest that he had no pain and felt fine fell on deaf ears. Ducky had the final word in the matter of Gibbs' fitness for field work, and on this day that word was a definitive 'No'.

Letting out a mournful sigh, Gibbs opened the dark blue NCIS embossed file folder that Vance had tossed on his desk after barking at the team to get back to work. Inside he found blank performance appraisal forms that required his immediate attention, at least according to the strongly worded, hastily hand-written memo from Vance, who expected a professional and detailed analysis of each member of the team. He usually pawned McGee and Ziva's performance appraisals off on Tony, but Vance's instructions were clear: 'You keep reminding me that they are your team, so I want your appraisals.' Instead of being signed 'Leon', it was signed 'Director Vance'.

Resigned to his fate, Gibbs knew he had no one but himself to blame for his current predicament. He had defied Ducky two years prior when he broke a promise to only observe while the team executed an arrest warrant. During the ensuing melee, the suspect bolted out of a side door and Gibbs ended up aggravating a knee injury when he tackled the man in the street. Gibbs was certain that these latest sanctions placed on him were payback for his prior reckless disobedience. Ducky never forgot or forgave such a slight.

"Fuck this," Gibbs muttered under his breath, tossing the offending file on top of the pile in his inbox. After two hours of nothing but tedious paperwork, Gibbs decided he had earned a coffee break.

The barista manning the coffee cart already had his order ready by the time he reached the front of the line. Large, no-frills, black coffee! Gibbs paid and tossed a generous tip in the tip jar. He had planned to take a leisurely stroll around the commons area to stretch his legs, until he saw Ducky sitting in the shade of a large oak tree on one of the numerous park benches scattered around the Navy Yard grounds.

"Hey, Duck," Gibbs greeted as he approached.

"Ah, Jethro, good morning," Ducky replied with an abundance of cheer. "Won't you join me?"

Gibbs complied and took a seat next to his oldest and dearest friend. "Meant to stop in and see you earlier, but you were a little busy," Gibbs stated.

"Ah, yes. Rick Balboa's case. A pretty, young petty officer found in a seedy motel room. The poor girl had been bound, beaten and raped, then left to die alone. Tragic case, poor girl. But I digress, to what did I owe a visit? Are you feeling quite right, Jethro?"

Gibbs looked around to make sure no one was within ear shot. Satisfied that they would not be overheard, he replied, "Yeah, physically I'm fine. I, uh, actually wanted to talk to you about something more, um, personal."

Ducky smirked at the hint of blush rising on Gibbs' cheeks. "Oh my! May I surmise that your inquiry has something to do with Anthony?"

Gibbs dropped his head back and sighed. Now that he had opened the door to this line of questioning there would be no turning back. Better to bite the bullet and get it over with. "Yep."

After a couple of sips of his tea, Ducky turned toward Gibbs. "So, I take it you and Anthony have sorted things out and settled your differences? I must admit I was a bit concerned after our last conversation. Jethro, if I may, is Tony's rather handsome neighbor - Brian, I believe he name was - out of the picture, as they say?"

Gibbs cocked his head. "He was never really in the picture, but yeah, why?"

"Pardon me, but I never asked you what happened after we spoke that night. You are still staying with Tony, so I assume the two of you have reached some sort of, shall I say, understanding?"

"You could say that," Gibbs stated. His brow furrowed at the inquisitive look on his friend's face. "Duck, if there's something you want to ask me, ask."

"Very well then. Have you and Anthony become romantically involved?"

Mortified at the thought of anyone overhearing such a direct and extremely personal question, Gibbs hazarded another look around. Turning his attention back to Ducky, he smiled. "Yeah, I think we're heading that way."

Not knowing what to make of Ducky's growing smile he asked, "That gonna be a problem?"

"Of course not! Jethro, I think it is wonderful, and dare I say, long past due! I have always known the two of you to have had a rather special, though until now undefined, and close relationship. This is just taking it to the next logical level."

Gibbs' eyebrows shot up and he barked out a nervous laugh. "Logical? Duck, there is nothing logical about it, about any of it! We've been friends and colleagues for years, and now - oh hell. I'm just worried about, um...", Gibbs trailed off with a timid shrug.

"Ah! Now we are getting somewhere!"

Gibbs was taken aback by the sudden twinkle in Ducky's eyes and the grandfatherly pat on his knee. 'Oh God,' he thought as Ducky continued to grin at him.

"Are you concerned that you are too old for Anthony? Jethro, you are healthy and more fit than men half your age. You have hardly reached your dotage, in fact I would estimate it will be many, many years before you begin your decline into old age as I have."

Ducky chuckled. Gibbs glared.

Apparently sensing his unease, Ducky moved closer so that he could ask barely above a whisper, "Jethro, are you by chance having performance issues in the bedroom? It is not uncommon for men over forty to lose at least some virility or suffer from some degree of erectile dysfunction. I would be happy to write you a prescription for Viagra."

Gibbs was dumbstruck and could do nothing but gape at the elderly doctor, who sat there completely unfazed by the implication. The last thing Gibbs needed right now was a long-winded crash course on erectile dysfunction and the various treatment options available, should he need them. With Tony in the picture, getting it up was not exactly a problem.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Back up, Duck! It not about the age difference and, for the record, everything below my belt works just fine. Besides, Tony and I haven't slept together - yet. We've talked about it, but I don't know if I'm ready to do certain things," Gibbs muttered as his discomfort returned.

The penny dropped. Ducky sat back and nodded in that oh so smug way he had. "Certain things, as in letting Anthony make love to you?"

Gibbs felt himself blushing all the way to his roots. He could not believe he was having "the talk" again after all these years. It had been awkward enough the first time around, but at least Jack brought humor to the table. Ducky was much more direct and more clinical, or so Gibbs thought.

A quiet, polite snicker got his attention. Gibbs sat up straight and turned perturbed eyes on Ducky.

"Something funny about this?" he asked.

"No, not in the least, but I've never seen you in such a state. Have you never experimented or been with a man before?" Ducky inquired.

"Just once - a long, long time ago," Gibbs replied with a tired sigh. He gave Ducky a Cliff's Notes version of how he ended up in the brief relationship he had with Randy. "He helped me get through a lot after I lost my girls, but he's the only one. Never considered it again - until Tony."

"Well, now I see how you might be apprehensive, knowing that you have never been on the, oh dear, how shall I say this, on the receiving end."

"Ah Christ, Duck!' Gibbs exclaimed, his embarrassment now complete. He dropped his head, and for a brief moment wished he had just gone back to work. The performance appraisals sitting on his desk were looking pretty good right about now.

"Jethro, there is nothing for you to be embarrassed about! Allowing Anthony to make love to you does not and will not make you any less of a man. You will still be the same lovable bastard you have always been. I have heard that in many cases male couples never engage in penetrative anal intercourse. There are other ways of giving and receiving sexual pleasure, most of which you are no doubt already familiar. All I can say is that you and Anthony need to take your time and communicate your desires and your needs, and your fears as well. You trust him, do you not?"

"Of course I trust him! He has a little more experience than me, and I just - I don't want to disappoint him," Gibbs confessed.

Gibbs was startled by Ducky tapping him under the chin to get his attention. "Look at me. Talk to him. Tell him of your fears. Anthony deserves to hear the truth from you. I have no doubt that he is as nervous as you are. After all, Tony has always looked up to you and he admires you so. I don't see how you could possibly disappoint him. Trust him, Jethro. It is quite obvious to me that he already has your heart."

"Yeah, that he does," Gibbs said, causing a smile to bloom on his lips. "Hell Duck, I think I love him."

Ducky clapped a hand down on his knee and stood. Gibbs looked up at him prepared for a lecture, but instead received sage advice.

"Of course you do, and I suspect Anthony feels the same way. His eyes give it away, you know. Now, I am sorry, Jethro, but I really must get back to Mr. Palmer in Autopsy, but allow me to leave you with one last piece of advice."

Gibbs knew he couldn't stop him if he wanted to, so he motioned for Ducky to continue.

"You are beginning a whole new chapter in your life. You deserve all of the happiness that lies ahead, and I believe you will have that with Tony. Love him, trust him, and let him love and trust you in return. Most importantly, you must talk to him. I know that Anthony not only loves you, but he respects you as well. He would never intentionally do anything to hurt you, in or out of the bedroom. Take a chance, my dear friend, and just let things happen in their own time. I am always here for you, and for Anthony as well, should either of you need to talk. In the meantime, there are numerous websites on the internet that you may find helpful." After a final pat on the back, Ducky turned toward the building.

Gibbs took and released a deep breath. His apprehension began to melt away the more Ducky's words of wisdom sunk in. He was right; Tony had his heart and Gibbs trusted him with it.

"Hey Duck, thanks," Gibbs called out, getting a smile and a polite, respectful bow in response.

* * *

Gibbs was back at his desk getting caught up on current case files when Ziva returned. After turning the gun she had picked up from Metro over to Abby for analysis, she began the arduous task of digging up information on Jimenez. Out of the corner of his eye, Gibbs noticed her covertly hazarding curious glances at him. Her eyes held questions.

"Something on your mind, Ziver," Gibbs asked, never looking up from the report he was reading. He looked up a moment later to find her standing at attention in front of his desk. Peering at her over the top of his glasses, he waited as Ziva bit her lower lip.

Leaning over his desk, she said quietly, "I have heard some talk. No one has said anything to me directly, but as you and Tony are my teammates I need to know if what I have heard is true."

Seeing no judgment or accusation in her expression, Gibbs took his glasses off and cocked his head. "What have you heard?"

Ziva looked around before leaning in further. "That you and Tony are dating," she stated simply.

"Would that be a problem for you?"

Ziva cracked a smile. "No, of course not. As long as nothing effects how we work together as a team, it is none of my business. I do feel left out, like everyone has been keeping a secret from me. Do you not trust me, Gibbs?"

Gibbs sighed. He had incorrectly assumed that Abby and the others had filled her in on recent developments. "I trust you, and so does Tony. To answer your question, yes. We didn't plan on telling anyone, but the others figured it out. We should have told you though."

Apparently satisfied, Ziva stood up and smiled down at Gibbs. "I understand, Gibbs. Thank you for telling me now. I would like to wish you and Tony the best. I think you will be good for each other."

Gibbs smiled back, touched by her easy acceptance. "Thanks, Ziver. Now, get your ass back to work and get that information I asked for."

* * *

Not only did Tony and McGee show up without a suspect for Gibbs to interrogate, but Tony seemed on edge and jumpier than usual. McGee looked flat out guilty, but Gibbs had no clue as to why. It didn't escape his notice that the two of them kept stealing sideways glances at each other, but didn't dare make eye contact. His assessment of his agents was interrupted by a call from Abby that she had finished her analysis of the gun.

"DiNozzo, you're with me," Gibbs barked as he rose from his chair. Tony dutifully followed, shooting McGee a warning glare when he past his desk.

The elevator had just begun its descent when Tony reached over and flipped the stop switch. Gibbs couldn't help but notice the concern swimming in his eyes as he closed the distance between them. To keep temptation at bay, Gibbs had taken up a position as far away as physically possible in the small confines of the elevator. After his embarrassing talk with Ducky and then outing them as a couple to Ziva, Gibbs was struggling to maintain some semblance of control.

"Jethro, are you okay? You seem - distracted," Tony said, running a free hand up and down Gibbs' arm.

Gibbs leaned into Tony's touch and nodded. "Can't concentrate. I, uh, had a talk with Ducky earlier - about us. Personal stuff," he mumbled.

He wasn't prepared for Tony to burst out laughing. "Oh my God! I would have loved to have been a fly on the wall for that."

Suddenly sobering, Tony looked Gibbs in the eye before cautiously asking, "Wait, exactly how personal?"

Gibbs rolled his eyes. "I don't want to talk about it here. I'll tell you later, and you can tell me what's going on with you and McGee."

A nervous laugh escaped before Tony could stop it. "Yeah, McGee. Definitely not something I want to share at the office either. Let's just say we talked, and it got a little awkward."

Gibbs narrowed his eyes. "How awkward?"

Tony swallowed hard. "Nothing bad really, but definitely a NSFW situation." At Gibbs' raised eyebrows, Tony chuckled as the doors opened. "That means 'not safe for work', Gibbs. I swear sometimes you are so clueless."

Fortunately, Abby was back to being all-business when they reached the lab, her earlier exuberance tempered by the mountain of evidence from Balboa's team waiting to be processed. She was able to confirm Metro's findings that it was the same gun from the Pax River drive-by shooting, and being more thorough than Metro she was able to lift a partial print from two of the remaining bullets in the clip. She shooed them out of her lab with a promise to call as soon as AFIS got a hit.

Dreading the prospect of spending the rest of the day subjected to probing eyes and knowing smirks, Gibbs informed Tony that he was going home. "I can't concentrate with McGee and Ziva shooting weird looks all over the bullpen. Besides, I have some other things I need to take care of."

"Things," Tony stated as a question, before his eyes went wide. "Oh God! Don't tell me Ducky gave you study aids?" he asked around a laugh. A swift and deliberate head slap brought the giggles to a premature end. "Ow!"

"DiNozzo," Gibbs growled, "Just finish up here, then get your ass home! If you get a new lead on Jimenez, call me."

Tony smirked as he rubbed the back of his head, more out of habit than anything. "So what do want me to tell them?"

Before the doors opened at their floor, Gibbs turned back to a puzzled looking Tony and shrugged. "Just tell them it was doctor's orders."

Without much fanfare, Gibbs grabbed his badge and Sig and announced that he was leaving for the day and that Tony was officially lead on the case. When he glanced up and saw Vance lording over the bullpen from the mezzanine rail outside of MTAC, he grabbed the performance appraisal file and shot the Director a glare for good measure.

* * *

Gibbs' concentration at home wasn't much better. In fact, it was worse. Abandoning the performance appraisals, he let his mind wander back two decades - to Randy. Gibbs knew he was well-endowed, and thinking back he could only wonder what it was like for Randy having such a large dick shoved up his ass. They never discussed it afterwards, but Randy always told him how good it felt. He always begged for harder and faster, and Gibbs always obliged.

Taking Ducky's advice, Gibbs took Tony's laptop into the to living room do a bit of research. He might not know much about computers, but he found Tony's internet bookmarks with no trouble. Gibbs chuckled at the number of porn sites listed. He clicked on the link to 'PornHub' and logged in as a guest. Tony no doubt had an account, but Gibbs wasn't about to call and ask for his password.

Watching several of the free previews of gay sex scenes was truly an eye-opening experience. Aroused by the sounds and images, Gibbs tried to imagine what it would be like having Tony making love to him. Like any red-blooded male, Gibbs was no stranger to watching porn on occasion, but this was his first time watching two men and he was fascinated. It turned him on more than he ever expected, and within a couple of minutes, his hand snaked down into his pants and stroking his erection in time with the action on the screen. He focused on the face of the bottom in the scene and saw the ecstatic pleasure on his face as he came. Gibbs came just seconds later.

After cleaning himself up and changing his pants, Gibbs leaned on the bathroom vanity top and looked at his reflection in the mirror. Could he be that vulnerable? He knew he could handle the expected pain, but could he give up that much control? One thing was certain, when Tony got home they were going to have a long talk!


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another Chapter of this one and we are almost at the end. We promise to get the last bits out to you in the next few days! Thank you for reading!

****McGee's and Ziva's performance appraisals were easy.  Gibbs knew their strengths, weaknesses, leadership potential, firearms proficiency, and areas that needed improvement.  More importantly, so did they.  He quickly jotted down the requested information on their respective forms and signed his name at the bottom.  His assessment of Tony, however, was proving to be much more of a challenge.

Coffee in hand, Gibbs walked over to the window and looked down on the bustling city street below.  For some unexplained reason, it was turning into his go-to place when he needed to think.  The question plaguing him was, how could he possibly be objective when it came to Tony? 

Gibbs knew that the key would be separating DiNozzo, his subordinate, from Tony, his lover, but could he?  There was no question that 'DiNozzo' was still the best damn agent he'd ever worked with.  In fact, there was no reason for him to still be just a Senior Field Agent.  He should have had his own team years ago.  Gibbs sure as hell didn't want to lose him; there was no one he trusted in the field more, but was he somehow holding Tony back? 

After a fair amount of soul searching and weighing the pros and cons, Gibbs returned to the couch and pulled Tony's performance appraisal from the folder.  As Tony's boss, he answered all of the standard questions honestly, and added a paragraph in the "Supervisor Comments" section recommending him for promotion.  Would 'DiNozzo' even accept a team leader position now?  God knows he'd earned it, and if not for lousy timing there was a good chance he would have taken the position Jenny offered him in Rota.  Did the fucked up, pseudo-relationship with Jeanne hold him back, or was it loyalty to him that made Tony turn it down?  Gibbs never asked him then, and he sure as hell wasn't about to ask him now.

On a personal level, the thought of Tony being transferred scared the hell out of him.  Whether it was across the Navy Yard, across the country, or God forbid overseas, it would kill _Jethro_ to let _Tony_ go.  The very idea left him shaken, but something inside him demanded he leave Tony an out.  Jethro would support Tony no matter what the cost.  Gibbs signed the form and returned it to the folder with a heavy sigh.    

Official work completed, Gibbs closed the laptop he had left open on the coffee table and pushed it away when he heard Tony's key turn in the lock.  He stood from his seat on the couch to greet his lover with a proper welcome home kiss.  Tony's almost bashful, borderline coquettish smile when the kiss broke put him at ease.

"What did I do to deserve that?" Tony asked, keeping Gibbs locked by his arms in a loose embrace. 

Gibbs grinned back.  "Just happy to see you."  After a final peck to Tony's lips, Gibbs extracted himself and headed for the kitchen.  

Tony followed and dropped one of the paper bags on the island in front of him.  Out of the corner of his eye, Gibbs watched as a second, slightly larger bag was squirreled away behind the toaster on the far counter. 

"Picked up the screws and stuff you said you needed," Tony announced, shoving his now empty hands into his pockets.  It was another nervous tell, but Gibbs decided to let it go for now, ignoring the faint blush rising on Tony's cheeks as he opened the bag.  

"Thanks, Tony," Gibbs said with a smile.  "Now I can finish up a little something I'm working on for you."

Tony beamed.  "You're making something for me?  Awww!  That's sweet!  What is it?"

Gibbs shook his head and replied, "Uh uh.  It's a surprise.  You're gonna have to wait a couple of days." 

Tony's exaggerated pout made Gibbs' heart skip a beat.  Over the years he had come to realize that for all of his bluster and swagger, it was little things and small gestures with a personal touch that meant the most to Tony. 

The two of them took a few minutes to peruse the meager offerings in the fridge before Tony grabbed the phone from the wall and placed a pizza order - sausage, pepperoni and extra cheese on one half, with mushrooms and green peppers added to the other.  While they waited for the delivery driver to arrive, they settled on the couch with a couple of bottles of beer and discussed the lack of developments in the case.  Not surprisingly, Tony had a couple of alternate theories that seemed plausible.  With any luck, tomorrow Gibbs would finally get a crack at interrogating Jimenez.

Tony retrieved plates, napkins and fresh bottles of beer while Gibbs paid the delivery boy and sent him on his way with a generous tip.  The plan was to watch the Nationals-Yankees game during dinner, so Tony shoved things out of the way to make room on the coffee table for the pizza box.

Gibbs froze when Tony suddenly pulled his laptop out from beneath the morning edition of the Washington Post and furrowed his brow and set it on the end table.

"Huh.  Thought I left this thing plugged in."

Setting the pizza box down, Gibbs scratched the back of his neck.  "Um, sorry 'bout that.  I, uh, had to look something up and forgot to plug it back in," Gibbs stammered out. 

He looked over at Tony to find narrowed, suspicious eyes.  He swallowed hard as Tony's smile grew and suspicion turned to teasing.  Tony grabbed the laptop again and opened it.  He threw his head back and laughed when the last webpage Gibbs had visited showed up on the screen in all of its HD glory.

"Wait!  Wait!  Are you telling me you came home in the middle of the day, during a case I might add, to watch gay porn?" Tony asked, his eyes twinkling with tears of laughter.

Gibbs dropped his head with a defeated sigh and wondered if this day could possibly get any more embarrassing.  He turned his head to find Tony still smirking at him. 

"Just a couple of previews.  You watch a lot of this stuff?" Gibbs asked, waving dismissively at the image frozen in time on the screen.  He wasn't about to share the fact with Tony that he had jerked off to it.

Without one iota of shame, Tony declared, "Hell yes!  I do have a subscription, as you know.  Except, of course, I always imagine you and me, not Pierre and Cody.  We can watch one of these later if you want.  There's some pretty hot stuff on this site.  Oh, and for future reference, my password is 'italianshoes007'."  The hopeful tone in Tony's voice, combined with suggestive waggling eyebrows, went straight to Gibbs' dick.

The baseball game on Tony's big screen TV was ignored for the most part.  Instead, Gibbs filled him in on his chat with Ducky, surprised that the details of it didn't elicit more than a thoughtful nod.  Ducky was the soul of discretion, so anything said to him was held in the strictest of confidence.  It was the news that he had basically outed them to Ziva that got a big reaction.  Gibbs patted Tony on the back when he nearly choked on a bite of his pizza.

"She just came right out and asked?  Jeez, she's got some serious balls," Tony announced, gesticulating wildly.  "Hell, I figured Abby, or more likely the Autopsy Gremlin, had already blabbed it, but I guess we've kinda been out of the loop for a while.  Glad she's okay with us being together."

Gibbs nodded, relieved that Tony wasn't upset with him. "Yeah, I thought she knew, too, or at least suspected.  We should have told her."

"Yeah, didn't really think about it with us being in the hospital, then being away from work.  I knew Ducky would be cool with it - with us.  Man, I've overheard him talking about stuff that would make Abby blush!" Tony finished with a chuckle. 

Pizza gone and clean up completed, they settled in and turned their attention to the game.  The Nationals were getting killed 6-1, so Gibbs wasn't surprised when Tony switched off the TV midway through the fourth inning and placed his laptop on the coffee table. 

"Why not," Gibbs replied with a shrug to Tony's unanswered question.  If Tony was hell bent on them watching gay porn together, so be it. 

Fifteen minutes into the "film", Gibbs was barely hanging on, and he wasn't the only one, if Tony shifting in his seat and making occasional adjustments was any indication.  Always the investigator, Gibbs observed the slight flush of Tony's skin, the way his tongue snaked out to worry his lower lip, and how his breath hitched as the current scene neared its climactic end.  Gibbs knew he was in trouble when Tony turned his head and looked at him with fully blown pupils.

Gibbs hadn't expected to suddenly end up with a lap full of Tony, or the lust-filled, sultry voice breathily tickling his ear, but he surrendered to it. 

"I bought something else today."  A series of nips and licks to the shell of his ear followed.  "It's for both of us and I think you're gonna like it, at least I hope you will."Tony climbed off and scurried to the kitchen.  He returned a moment later clutching the bag he had stashed away earlier.  Gibbs' eyebrows shot up when Tony curled up next to him and dangled it in front of him, a Cheshire Cat grin fully in place.

"You gonna show me, or make me guess what's in there?" Gibbs asked as his hand found its way under Tony's t-shirt and began running up and down the warm, smooth expanse of his back.  From the blush still on Tony's cheeks, Gibbs knew it wasn't the set of chisels he'd been meaning to pick up.

Tony chuckled then cleared his throat.  "Um, actually, this is what McGee was all freaked out about earlier.  I sent him to get us coffees while I ran into the hardware store, then he saw me coming out of the store next door with this and grabbed it while I was driving.  You should have seen the look on his face.  Priceless!  Serves him right for being all McNosey," Tony reported with a laugh.

Beaming, Tony turned the bag upside down and spilled the contents onto the couch cushion beside them.  Gibbs eyes went impossibly wide, though he shouldn't have been surprised by the offering.  With Tony he never knew quite what to expect, but a rather intimidating looking dildo, a pair of leather cock rings, and a bottle of "Anal Ease" were definitely not on his list of possibilities. 

He expected another mischievous smirk, or waggling eyebrows when he looked at Tony, but instead he was met with a look of abject adoration, love, and affection.  The air became heavy with anticipation.  Gibbs didn't need to ask.  He knew what Tony was asking of him.  It was an unexpected, but not unwelcome step forward.

Tony's hands cradled his face, and his lips descended, ghosting softly over his own.  "Trust me, Jethro?" 

Before Gibbs could do more than blink, his lips were taken in a passionate kiss full of need.  It was possessive in its intensity, and he allowed himself to surrender. 

When they parted, Tony stood and held out his hands.  Gibbs took them and let Tony pull him to his feet.  Standing there peering deeply into each other's eyes, a whole conversation was held without a single word being uttered.  Gibbs could tell that Tony was searching for any hint of apprehension or worse, rejection.

Gibbs whispered, "Tony, you know I've never ...".  His words were cut off by a gentle finger across his lips.

Tony cradled Gibbs' face again, his thumbs soothing away the worry line crinkles around his eyes. 

"I know," Tony crooned softly.  "And as much as I want to make love to you, that's a really big step - for both of us.  Right now, I just want to make you feel good; let you see how amazing it will feel having me inside you - when you're ready.  Do you trust me?"

Gibbs nodded.  "Of course I trust you.  Always have, always will." 

* * *

 

Gibbs had never questioned his sexuality - until Tony came along.  Now his thoughts were a swirling eddy of conflicting self-perceptions.  From the Corps to the gym to the showers at NCIS, he had seen more than his fair share of good-looking men, but none of them ever drew his undivided attention like the half-naked man currently stripping before him. 

Hard and leaking, Gibbs lay back against a stack of pillows on the turned down bed and stared at the dildo standing at attention on the night stand.  It was surely just his imagination, but it seemed to get bigger every time he glanced over at it. Knowing what was about to happen, Gibbs swallowed hard.   _He could do this, couldn't he?_ The thrill of the moment ran head on into the vulnerability he felt, laid out on the bed physically and emotionally naked.

Toys had never come into play with Randy.  Their encounters had been almost clinical, without much in the way of foreplay.  Their arrangement wasn't about romance; the singular purpose when they were together being based on a primal need for a physical connection and release.  The act itself may have been intimate, but missing was any tangible emotional investment. 

The same could be said for his ex-wives.  He loved them in his own way, at least to some degree, but he had never let himself fall completely in love with any of them.  Gibbs prided himself on being a generous lover, even though he never felt great desire or passion with his exes.  He made up for it with intensity and technique, and always made sure he left them sated.    As each relationship inevitably crumbled, 'making love' lost its meaning.  It became sex for the sake of having sex.  The same could be said for each of the short-term girlfriends who followed. 

As he felt the mattress dip, Gibbs turned his head back to find a gloriously naked Tony crawling onto the bed to join him.  None of the women had sparked an aching need in him like Tony did.  A gentle touch, a shy smile, a searching look were all it took to light that latent fire smoldering inside him.  The stakes were much higher now.  Gibbs wanted more - he wanted it all.  Above all, he wanted the intimacy, including the emotional connection that had eluded him for so long. 

"Hey," Tony said as he climbed up the length of Gibbs' prone body and settled on his side next to him.  Carding his fingers through the short hair at Gibbs' temple, Tony offered an out.  "We don't have to do this if you're having second thoughts."  There was no anger or disappointment in his voice. It was just a statement of acceptance and understanding.

Gibbs looked into Tony's eyes.  "No, I want to.  Just - I don't want to disappoint you."

Tony smiled and stated plainly, "You won't.  You can't.  You're Gibbs, and I love you."

It was Gibbs' turn to smile. It was as simple as that.  Tony loved him.  Gibbs knew it and felt it.  It was love, trust, passion, and desire all melded together.  Tony wanted him, all of him, and Gibbs was ready to give himself to him. 

"I love you, too," Gibbs replied with honest conviction.  He then reached a hand up to the back of Tony's neck and pulled him down into a lingering kiss.

Several minutes of kissing and good old-fashioned making out led to roaming hands intent on thorough exploration.  On his back, Gibbs was at a disadvantage and almost completely at Tony's mercy.  He fought the urge to turn the tables and take control, but his need to prove that his trust was implicit trumped it.  Gibbs settled back, closed his eyes, and relaxed into Tony's touch.  He was treated to a full-frontal body massage as Tony worked his way up from his toes, stopping to lavish reverent attention on each flaw and battle scar he encountered along the way.    Gibbs was relaxed to the point of threatening to doze off when a breathy, playful, husky voice tickled his ear.

"God, I want you so bad right now," Tony purred as he nuzzled Gibbs' neck and nibbled at a hot spot he found behind his ear.

Gibbs closed his eyes and waited to see what Tony had in store for him next.  One deep breath, then a second.  "Okay, then."

His eyes flew open mere seconds later when he heard a snap and instantly felt tight pressure around his balls. Craning his head, Gibbs gaped and watched in stunned silence as Tony secured a dark green leather cock ring tightly around the base of his dick and around his balls.  It was a wholly foreign sensation, but Gibbs had to admit that it felt - and looked - pretty damn sexy.  The ring became even tighter as he grew even larger in response.

"Ah, there we go.  That's better," Tony chirped, obviously satisfied with his handiwork.  "Damn,  Jethro, that looks so fucking hot!"  Gibbs rolled his eyes.  "You want a safe word?"

"A what?" Gibbs asked, looking at Tony as if he had lost his mind.

"A safe word.  You know, a word you can say if things get to be too much for you?"

"And just what exactly are you planning to do to me that you think I need a safe word?" Gibbs asked, fighting back a teasing smirk.  "It's not like I'm some young thing tied up and helpless!" 

Tony rolled his eyes and chuckled.  "All righty, if you say so."

Gibbs nodded curtly and returned the grin leveled at him as Tony rolled the small bottle of lube between his hands to take off the chill.  Sweetly spoken words of encouragement became interspersed with dirty talk as Tony explained everything he was about to do to him, in graphic detail.  Equal parts nervous and curious, Gibbs did his best to stay relaxed.  With a pillow under his butt to raise his hips, he placed his feet flat on the bed giving Tony full access. 

"Just breathe," Tony instructed as he popped the cap on the lube and coated his fingers.  "May feel a bit of a burn at first, but then, it's gonna feel really good!  Okay, last chance to back out - you ready?"

"Ready as I'll ever be."

Gibbs closed his eyes and took a deep breath in through his nose as Tony got into position.  He let it out slowly when he felt Tony's well-lubed finger circling around and teasing his hole before slipping inside.  Gibbs flinched at the sudden intrusion.  It felt odd, but not bad.  The dirty talk ramped up for several minutes as Tony carefully added a second and then a third finger to massage the tight muscles and coax him open.  The feeling of emptiness when Tony's fingers retreated only lasted a few seconds before Gibbs felt the cold, lubed, head of the dildo breaching him. 

Hissing at the initial slight burn as he was stretched open even further, Gibbs let out another deep breath.  The languid kiss he received was a welcome distraction.  The feeling of fullness was indescribable.  As promised, Tony was gentle as he slowly eased the toy in and out, going a little deeper with each thrust.   Gibbs' legs fell open involuntarily in silent invitation for more as the burn faded and extreme pleasure too over. 

"That's it," Tony encouraged.  "Feels good, doesn't it?"

"Jesus, Tony," Gibbs moaned.

"You okay?" Tony asked as he leaned over to place another gentle kiss on Gibbs' parted lips.  

"Feels so good.  Give me more," Gibbs croaked out as he began thrusting to take the dildo as deep as it would go.  Tony obliged and increased the depth of the thrusts until the flared base was flush against his ass.  Unaware that the dildo had a vibrator feature, Gibbs' eyes flew open when Tony switched it on.  The vibration deep inside him threw his senses into overdrive, especially when Tony jiggled it around until it brushed against his prostate.

"FUCK!" Gibbs yelled, his hips shooting up off of the bed in response.

"Found it," Tony announced around a chuckle as he repeated the process a few more times, eliciting the same response.

"Jesus Christ, that feels good," Gibbs panted, leveraging up onto his elbows so that he could watch as Tony worked the toy in and out of his body.  He should have been embarrassed, but he wasn't.  In fact, he couldn't remember ever being this turned on.  His now profusely leaking cock was an angry purple from being mercilessly squeezed, and his balls ached beyond belief.  Gibbs was certain that if he didn't get to come soon, he was going to lose his mind or die. 

"You like this, Jethro?  You thinking about my cock filling you?  Mmmm...just wait until it _is_ me inside you. It's gonna be so good!  God, you look so gorgeous, so sexy right now.  I'm so hard just thinking about being inside you, and then having you inside me," Tony moaned.

Gibbs' lusty gaze fell to Tony's equally swollen cock, encased in a matching cock ring, jutting out proudly from a base of thick, dark curls.  Tony lazily stroking himself with his free hand was the last straw.

"Fuck!  I need to come, now," Gibbs panted desperately, falling back onto the pillows.  His entire body began to tremble and his skin broke out in a fine sheen of sweat.  "Please, Tony?"

Leaving the dildo buzzing away and parked against the nub of Gibbs' prostate, Tony unsnapped the cock ring.  Gibbs eyes rolled back in his head when he felt Tony's mouth close around his cock, replacing the tight constriction with warm suction.  Within seconds, brilliant colors flashed behind his eye lids and his body thrummed with an undulating electric current.  Gibbs arched his back and came undone with Tony's name on his lips. 

"Oh shit, TONY!"

As the orgasmic haze began to clear, Gibbs watched through heavy lidded eyes as Tony knelt beside him and jerked himself at a frantic pace.  Head thrown back, body slick with sweat, and the look of pure bliss on his face was beyond erotic. 

"Do it, Tony.  Come for me," Gibbs managed to pant out. 

It wasn't long before he felt Tony's cum land on his belly in repeated spurts and heard his name cried out.  Gibbs opened his arms and braced for Tony to collapse onto him.  They lay in a sated heap for several minutes until Tony was able to leverage himself up. 

Gibbs reached up and brushed away errant hairs from Tony's sweaty forehead.  Cheeks flushed and his eyes having turned a deep emerald green, Tony was simply breathtaking.  Gibbs felt an intense rush unlike anything he had felt before.  There it was; the emotional connection he had denied himself for so long.

Tony lowered himself down and favored Gibbs with the sweetest kiss.  "You okay, Jethro?"

"I'm more than okay.  Thank you, Tony.  That was incredible," Gibbs muttered, his voice becoming choked with emotion.

Tony smiled down at him.  "It was my pleasure, seriously.  Damn, Jethro, that was the hottest thing ever.  Thank you - for trusting me."

Gibbs smiled back and replied, "Always."  Not wanting to get mired down too deeply in a emotional pit, he placed a stinging swat on Tony's butt and began to roll out of bed.  "Shower, now."

Tony chuckled but gracefully climbed off the bed and followed Gibbs into the bathroom.  "Yeah, sorry about that.  Kind of made a mess on you there."

Gibbs stopped short when he reached the threshold and turned, causing Tony to hit the brakes to avoid slamming into him.  Pointing a bossy finger, Gibbs stated, "Never apologize for that."  Shrugging, he stepped into the bathroom and turned on the shower.  "Actually, I kinda liked it," he called over his shoulder, leaving a stunned Tony standing in the doorway.  

* * *

 

Tony was worried.

Not ‘pack extra bullets and start calling in favors’ worried, but worried nonetheless.

On the surface things seemed fine. Gibbs had been back at work for a week and things between them there seemed to be sorting themselves out despite a few little hitches and hiccups from time to time. Generally the slips were Tony’s, quick retorts or unconscious glances that crossed the very clear lines they had established in order to keep their working relationship working.

At home, the basement/ storage unit solution seemed to be helping them manage living on top of each other in Tony’s relatively small apartment for the time being. Tony had snuck down there a few times over the last week to bring Gibbs a cold beer when he’d been gone more than an hour or so in the evenings. The fact that more tools seemed to be showing up almost daily did not escape Tony’s attention and there was a part of him that was secretly thrilled by the fact that Gibbs was laying claim to this space that had once been his alone.

Sometimes Tony left Gibbs to his own devices and thoughts, retreating back upstairs to his own private relaxation rituals, others he was content to sip a beer and watch quietly from a darkened corner imagining they were back in the familiar bowels of Gibbs’ house, just a regular Friday night. Some nights his cock got interested in the play of muscle beneath tanned flesh, in the bead of sweat that trailed down Gibbs’ throat and slipped beneath the collar of his worn t-shirt. Then he made his best effort to distract Jethro with a few well-placed kisses against the back of his neck, just below the line of his hair. One night, Tony caught him in the right mood and suddenly found himself the subject of the other man’s intense concentration and attentions, worked over and tested with calloused hands and a ravenous mouth that whispered astonishingly filthy things against the heat of his skin. He’d come hard in the tight grip of Gibbs’ hand, back pressed up against the biting cool steel of the wall, not caring if the entire building heard his debauched moans and curses.

And that was another thing. Because the part of their budding relationship-Tony could not escape the word despite his attempts-that should be the most awkward, the most difficult to accept for both of them, simply…wasn’t. Gibbs gave a little, Tony gave a little, and they both took in equal measure. How two people with as many issues as they had could fall into a functional relationship was completely beyond him, and yet there was no denying that it just somehow seemed to work.

Tony was also quickly learning that intimacy wasn’t always about sex with Gibbs, a fact that still freaked him the hell out just a little. Small, casual touches were often just as powerful as a mind blowing orgasm, each one staking a claim in its own tiny way.

One night Jethro patiently stripped him naked, fingers barely ghosting over his skin. He watched intently with passion-heavy eyes as Tony moved onto the bed, studying his body in a way that was utterly unnerving. When Gibbs did finally touch him, it was decidedly deliberate. Curious fingers traced the cut of a trembling tendon, the line of Tony’s hip, flattened out over his belly, and swept into the soft tufts covering his upper chest. A lust-laden voice instructed him to roll onto his stomach first, then his side for a different angle. Tony soon realized that Gibbs was learning him like he learned a piece of wood before he worked it, finding all his knots, his grain, his vulnerable edges. And when Tony was finally writhing against the sheets with the slow, intoxicating burn of it, twisting his hips and gripping the slick fabric in tight fists, Jethro stretched out beside him and jerked him off fast and hard, blue eyes drinking in the full length of his body in rapt fascination as he shattered and slowly drifted back together again.

 Having _not-quite_ sex with Gibbs had already equaled and surpassed the most strikingly erotic moments of his life, and they hadn’t even made it to home plate yet. At this rate, the real thing was likely to kill him.

So with everything so seemingly perfect, Tony had a hard time explaining why he found himself chewing on his lip while Gibbs made dinner one night, trying to determine exactly where the sense of wrongness was coming from. It was two days later before he finally figured it out.

* * *

 

“You’re sure you’re ready?” Tony asked, tugging his t-shirt over his head as he stepped into the living room.

“Yes, I’m sure. That’s the tenth time you’ve asked.” Gibbs grabbed his keys from the bowl on the side table.

“And you’re sure you want me to go?”

“Wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t.” Gibbs’ voice was flat but there was a tightness about it that belied his uncharacteristic apprehension, which Tony had been unconsciously sensing for days.

“It’s just…they took it down last week and you’ve been saying you’re going for the last two days.”

“So? We’re going now.”

“I’m just saying that at the DiNozzo family therapist, we called that avoidance, Gibbs.” Tony arched a brow and wisely kept a little distance between himself and Jethro as he turned off the lights in the kitchen and double checked the stove.

Gibbs was silent for a moment. “It’s-it _was_ just a building, Tony. Just wood and bricks and cement with a bunch of things in between. Hadn’t been a home for a long time.”

There was something else in Gibbs’ voice, something that made Tony’s chest ache and his arms want reach out to wrap around him so tight that he had to consciously keep them pressed to his sides. “But it’s a memory of a home, Jethro,” Tony said quietly.

“Let’s go.” Gibbs turned for the door before Tony could read his face.

It seemed Gibbs was going to ignore his last comment. The other man was already out the door and a few steps down the hall before Tony caught up at a trot. It wasn’t until they reached the elevators and Tony could see the little quivers around Jethro’s jawline that he knew his words had hit closer than Gibbs would have liked to the thing that had him quietly on edge.

They rode the elevator in silence and even with his longer legs, Tony had to work to keep up with Gibbs’ determined pace all the way to the parking garage. When they reached the Challenger, Gibbs suddenly paused at the rear of the vehicle, so abruptly that Tony nearly ran him down.

  
“You drive.” Gibbs fingers brushed Tony’s as he passed off the keys, but he avoided meeting his eyes as he ducked around the passenger side.

Tony knew better than to ask questions, especially given the current mood, and he wasted no time getting them on the road. Gibbs was quiet, watching the pavement without seeming to see what was around them.

“You never told me about that night.” Jethro finally broke the silence after a few minutes.

“Sure I did,” Tony piped up without thinking, glad that Gibbs was making an effort to come out of the funk he had dropped into. “Basement, scooter, rescue. The rest you were pretty much there for, except the kissing thing. But I think we got that covered now.” He was pretty sure his attempt to lighten the mood would fall flat but Tony wouldn’t be Tony if he didn’t at least try.

“That’s not really telling me about it, Tony. That’s Cliff notes.” Gibbs still sounded distracted but at least he was talking. “What were you thinking, coming out in that for me? I’ve seen the pictures of these neighborhoods. You could have just as easily gotten yourself killed.” He gestured to the streets around them where evidence of the storm’s passing still lingered in abundance.

Tony shook his head. “You would have done the same for me.” He didn’t even look at Gibbs for confirmation. “Besides, it’s all just kind of a blur. I don’t remember half of it anymore.” It was a lie and they both knew it. In truth, Tony remembered every agonizing second of the 8 mile trip and realized he had steered clear of this route since that night. “Once I found you, nothing else mattered.” Tony had meant it to sound reassuring because this part, at least, was the truth. Still, it came off sounding more flip than he had intended.

“You know, at the Gibbs’ family therapist, we called that avoidance.” The jab was gentle but well placed.

“Touché, Gibbs.” A rueful smile crinkled the corner of Tony’s mouth.

They drove a few more miles in silence, the rumble of the Challenger’s engine drowning out the sounds of other traffic around them. As they approached the major intersection for Gibbs’ street, saw empty lots and tree stumps where houses had once stood, Tony’s breath caught in his throat and he chanced a glance at Jethro out of the corner of his eye. Gibbs sat straight and rigid, his jaw tight.

Sliding his hand up over the center console, Tony let it come to rest gently on Gibbs’ thigh. He felt the flex and twitch of coiled muscle under his palm before Jethro seemed to relax a little beneath his touch. Tony had to admit that the contact was as much for his benefit.

They were a block from Gibbs’ house- _his former house_ , Tony’s mind supplied unhelpfully- when Jethro suddenly tensed.

“Pull over.” The words were clipped, an order.

Tony complied immediately, swerving to a stop by the curb even as Gibbs fumbled at his seatbelt and leaned toward him, grasping handfuls of his t-shirt and tugging hard.

Slamming the car into park, Tony found himself pinned back against the seat as Gibbs nearly crawled over the center console to claim his mouth in a kiss that was pain and need and desperation all rolled together. Jethro’s lips flattened against his, pressed in hard and hurting, taking what he needed. Tony let it happen, kept himself pliant and responsive, answered angst with comfort and reassurance, running his hands in light soothing strokes over Jethro’s flanks in counterpoint to the other man’s aggression.

A minute or so later it was over. The pressure of Gibbs’ mouth eased and his muscles began to relax. Tony’s hands shifted around to caress the long line of his back as Gibbs’ head settled into the curve of his shoulder.

“Okay now?” Tony murmured against his hair. There was no response. “Jethro, we don’t have to go. It’s alright if you can’t.”

Gibbs pulled back at this and Tony could see the firm resolution written in the set of his jaw. “No.” He slid back into his seat. “I’m good.”

Tony nodded his understanding. Gibbs wasn’t a man who bore pain well. Not emotional pain anyway. If you couldn’t shoot it, lock it up, or drink it away while building a boat, his coping mechanisms were pretty limited. Mother Nature was not an enemy he knew how to fight against. Jethro was hurting and there was no one to blame, he just had to deal with it any way he could. Tony could think of much worse ways.

As he pulled away from the curb again, Tony was happy to see that there were signs of life and activity throughout the neighborhood. Homes that could be salvaged were under repair, and a number of utility vehicles lined the block, still working to fully restore vital services and ensure the safety of underground lines weeks after the storm.

It was the emptiness of Gibbs’ block that stopped Tony’s breath as he slowly came to a final stop. The once verdant and tree-lined neighborhood looked stripped bare. Those trees that did remain had taken heavy damage and lost large limbs. Instead of throwing sun dappled shade, the warm afternoon light bore down on the earth unhindered, forcing them to squint into the brightness of it and making the world around seem somehow even more harsh and barren.

Tony reached for Gibbs’ hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze before they both exited the vehicle. Moving around to the hood, he hung back and watched as Gibbs stepped slowly up onto the curb, his feet seeming to drag like lead weights.

The only thing left to remind Tony that this was once the place that had felt like a second home to him were the sidewalk which ended suddenly where the house should have been, and the familiar outline of the garage at the back of the lot. Hidden by the house and fence in the past, it seemed out of place in its current location, made somehow larger in its loneliness. Little evidence remained of the trees and shrubberies that had once filled the yard and lined the front of the house. It was as if everything had been swept neatly clean.

Tony followed a few steps behind Gibbs as they slowly made their way up the sidewalk. Where it ended he could now see the grey stone and concrete foundation sitting almost flush with the earth, lingering like old bones in the ruin. Beyond them there was darkness, the empty hole that had once been a refuge of warm light and familiarity.

Caution tape marked the perimeter and Gibbs was stopped with his knees even to it, staring into the emptiness. Tony approached slowly, wanting to give Jethro his space but also wanting to be there in case. In case of what, he didn’t know, but something told him it was important just the same.

“Wow.” The word came out as a breathy sigh as Tony came up beside Gibbs and was able to see what remained of the basement. He had to hand it to the demolition team, they had done a very thorough job. Everything was gone, even the heavy work bench that had lined one wall and the water heater and furnace. Pipes emerged from the walls where they had formerly attached and some stuck up out of the floor at odd angles. All were well marked, waiting. What remained of the stairs had been demolished, leaving no way to safely descend, but there was really no need. They could see all they needed to from above.

“Yeah.” Gibbs turned away abruptly and skirted the side of the caution barrier, moving slowly toward the back of the property. He stooped to pick up something out of the overgrown grass and stayed down, balancing on the balls of his feet as he turned an object over and over in in his hands.

As Tony came up behind him he could see that Gibbs had picked up a piece of paper with some faded writing on it. Closer inspection revealed it to be a torn section of note card with the words **‘Rule 5’** printed in the top corner. Tony knew Jethro’s writing well enough to know that the hand that penned it wasn’t his. It shook between Gibbs’ fingers.

Tony laid a hand on Jethro’s shoulder and felt the other man’s body quake.

“Don’t,” Gibbs said flatly, rising from his crouch to stand straight, his shoulders thrust back.

“Jethro,” Tony said quietly, the name catching in his throat. He moved in closer but didn’t try to touch him again.

“Jesus, Tony just…just don’t. I can’t…” Gibbs began looking around almost frantically, eyes swinging from the garage which was only a few feet away back to the refuge of the car.

Tony had never seen Gibbs like this, had never even imagined that he would. He’d wondered, when Jenny died, and Franks, what Jethro did with his pain in private. But then, there had always been a killer to catch. This agony had no target and now, in the middle of it, there was nowhere for Gibbs to run.

“Come on.” Tony moved forward to the garage. There were people working not that far from them and it wouldn’t take much for someone to get curious if they were in the car or the middle of the lawn and things went to hell. He pulled Gibbs’ keys out of his pocket and found the one that went to the Master lock on the side door of the garage. It came free easily and the door swung open without a sound.

The air inside was hot and still, scented with gasoline fumes, dried grass clippings, and oil. A few boxes Tony didn’t remember lined one wall, possibly things that Ducky had placed here rather than taking them over to the storage unit where the rest of Gibbs’ salvaged possessions resided.

Jethro followed Tony through the door, his eyes still wild and his posture unnaturally stiff. The scrap of paper was clutched in a tight fist. When the door closed again, he blinked in the dim light and drew a shaky breath.

“What do you need?” Tony chanced a hand in the small of Gibbs’ back and it was as if a switched flipped.

Gibbs rounded on him, pressing him back hard against the edge of a built in work bench. Surprised by the swift movement but not wholly unprepared, Tony kept his body slack and met Jethro’s dark and heated gaze steadily. He managed to twist a hand loose from Gibbs’ grasp and raise it to brush his knuckles against the other man’s twitching jaw.

Gibbs’ breathing was harsh and uneven as he clearly fought to control the raging tempest of emotion storming inside of him. His hips pressed into Tony’s and he trembled from head to toe at the gentle touch against his cheek.

“Tell me what you need,” Tony repeated, freeing his other hand and wrapping both his arms around Gibbs, locking them together. There was a part of him that knew it was a big risk but another that sensed the necessity to restrain him.

Gibbs tried to pull back but Tony’s grip was tight and somehow soothing. “Let me go. Need to get out of here.” The words lacked conviction and he wasn’t putting his whole weight into the fight.

“Whatever the hell it is that’s tearing you up right now, Jethro, you can’t make this go away. You can fight me, hell, you can hit me if you want, and you’ll probably win, but it won’t change the fact that it’s gone.” Tony’s voice was firm but not without sympathy. “You have to deal with it.”

Desperate eyes darted back and forth across Tony’s face as Gibbs wrestled with the ghosts in his own mind. “Please.” The word was barely a choked whisper.

“Just you and me here, Jethro. It’s safe.” Tony tightened his grip a little more, wishing he could stop the shaking of Gibbs’ body.

Gibbs’ hands came up to Tony’s shoulders, but instead of pushing him away, his fingers curled inward, digging deep into hard muscle. Jethro’s head dropped back and an inhuman sound of uncaged pain crawled from his throat and echoed in the rafters as his entire body stiffened and shook. When his breath was gone he bowed forward, pressing his face into the curve of Tony’s shoulder while he clutched desperately at his neck and back.

“What do you need?” Now that the dam was crumbling, Tony tried again. He tugged Gibbs polo loose from his pants and slipped his hands beneath it to reach bare skin. Using deep pressure, he ran his thumbs up and down the sides of Jethro’s spine in a steady rhythm. There was dampness against his neck and Gibbs’ body continued to quake intermittently.

Moist lips began to move against the column of Tony’s throat and Gibbs pressed his body closer, moving without thought toward something that felt better or at least different than the pain inside he didn’t seem to be able to put the cap back on right now. “I need you,” he ground out at the curve of Tony’s ear, sinking his teeth into the little nub of flesh.

“Jethro…” Tony warned. Even though his body was already beginning to respond, he knew this wasn’t the best idea. Although, he had to admit, it was a method of pain relief he had exercised himself on more than one occasion.

“You keep asking me what I need,” Gibbs’ hands were already fumbling at the closure of his jeans, “I need you.”

The ache in Jethro’s voice was palpable and the near frantic movements of his hand as it dipped in to stroke Tony’s cock left little space for argument.

Giving in to the feverish play of Gibbs’ mouth against the sensitive underside of his jaw, Tony pulled back enough to slip his t-shirt off and toss it onto the bench beside him as Gibbs did the same.

Gibbs’ eyes stayed anxiously glued to Tony as if he was the only thing anchoring him to reality in this moment. It took mere seconds for him to shed his clothing and push his jeans and boxers down around his ankles, but seconds seemed to be too long to be separated and as soon as Tony was naked enough, he lunged back in, pressing their bodies together hard.

At the harsh grunt from Gibbs when Tony’s sternum collided with still-mending ribs, Tony tried to pull back, but Jethro was having none of it. Flat nails dug into the thin skin covering his shoulder blades as Gibbs’ lips made broken trails over his throat, his jaw, his cheek, finally finding his mouth in a kiss that was nothing like the slow, deliberate caresses he was used to.

Pulling back, Gibbs licked his palm and plunged it between their bodies, combining the moisture of his mouth with that leaking form Tony’s cock and pressing both their dicks together against the warm sweaty skin of their bellies.

Gibbs’ hips began to move against him, thrusting purposefully with a rhythm born out of pure need. Trembling hands slipped beneath Tony’s arms, snaked up over his shoulders, and seized handfuls of hair on either side of his head. He was bent backwards, small of his back pressing uncomfortably against the hard edge of the wooden workbench as Jethro’s lips anchored just below his ear.

Covered in sweat from the overheated air in the garage and the rapid pistoning of his hips against Tony’s, Gibbs made a hoarse sound of approval as Tony’s fingers dug into the muscle of his ass and pulled him closer still.

“Could fuck you right here,” Gibbs panted against the moist column of Tony’s throat.

Tony moaned at the words, not a noise of assent, but his cock gave a hard twitch at the image that rose in his brain.

“Think about coming inside you whenever you touch me…did you know that, Tony?” Jethro rasped into his ear. “Did you know you could make me want you like this? Make me fucking _need_ you?” His thrusts grew sloppier, more desperate.

“Jethro…fuck, so close…” The tight, slick friction around his cock was too much to take on its own and when the ridge of Gibbs’ dick began to pop up and down over his sensitive head, he was a breath away from losing it. The words against his ear had his mind racing, his blood singing, but he couldn’t think about them now. The only thing keeping him from flying apart where the eight points of pain on his scalp where Jethro’s fingers dug in unmercifully and the raw chafe of wood against his back.

“The next time you come… _fuck…_ next time I wanna be inside you.” Gibbs’ mouth latched onto the flesh of Tony’s shoulder, muffling his moans as his orgasm took him, numbing the pain.

The thought flashed white hot and clear in his brain as Gibbs’ hips stuttered and Tony felt the hot slick of fresh cum painting his belly. Another few thrusts and he was there, fingers and toes clenching and flexing as the heaviness in his balls spread out and sought rapid exit.

Gibbs continued to thrust brokenly, shoulders heaving and face still buried in Tony’s shoulder. Eventually the quaking of his body subsided, but even then he did not forsake the comfort of the embrace.

As he came down, Tony realized that he was burning up. The afternoon sun was turning the garage into an oven and he was dripping with sweat from a combination of the heat of the air, intense sex, and Gibbs’ warmth still wrapped around him. His back hurt like a son of a bitch and he was likely going to have a few bruises to deal with. Still, he wouldn’t change a damn thing.

“Jethro?” Tony asked hesitantly, turning his head to press his lips against sweat dampened hair.

Gibbs’ head came up fast and he took a few coltish steps backward, seemingly startled to find his pants tangled around his ankles. He looked down at the mess on his belly and swept his fingers through his hair shakily. “’M sorry, didn’t mean to…” he mumbled absently, yanking up his pants and pulling a handkerchief from the back pocket to wipe off his stomach.

“Hey. Don’t do that.” Tony took a step toward him.

Gibbs froze mid clean-up.

“No,” Tony shook his head. “Do _that_ ,” he corrected, “but don’t apologize. And don’t start running away now. I’m glad I was here. You don’t have a damn thing to be sorry for.”

“Easy for you to say, you weren’t the one losing your shit over a fucking house.” Gibbs didn’t seem to be able to meet Tony’s eyes as he handed him the handkerchief for his own use.

“No. But some day I might be. And wouldn’t you want to be there when I did?” He finished cleaning up but didn’t put any clothes on. The air felt good against his overheated skin even if he wasn’t moving.

When he finally looked up at Tony, Gibbs’ eyes still appeared sad but steadier than they had been since their arrival. “Guess I would,” he admitted, still not sounding wholly convinced.

“So now what? Eventually we’re going to have to leave this garage.” Tony finally pulled his pants up and reached for his t-shirt.

Gibbs’ shrugged. “Kinda hope the worst is over. Thought I was prepared. Guess I was wrong.” He tugged on his polo and walked over to the far corner where his well-kept lawnmower was now gathering dust, crouching down to check the gas level. Seemingly satisfied, he opened a cupboard along one wall and pulled out a whiskey bottle and two mason jars. “Emergency reserve,” he said flatly as he set them on the shelf in front of Tony.

“Seriously?” Tony uncorked the bottle and poured two, three fingered glasses. He sure as hell knew he could use a drink right now. A cold beer would be better but he would take what he could get. So, apparently, would Gibbs.

“May not have a damn house left but I’ve got a lawn and it needs mowed.” Gibbs pulled a manual edger off the wall and handed it to Tony who blinked at him like he had just grown a second head.

“Gibbs…” Tony didn’t understand the abrupt about-face and it had him worried.

“Don’t look at me like that. ‘M not broken, Tony, I promise.” Jethro moved in close and pressed his hand against Tony’s chest. “I don’t have much left, but this is mine.” He gestured around them. “That out there?  That’s mine too. And I take care of what’s mine.”

Gibbs was about to pull away when Tony caught his hand and brought it back, right above his heart. “This is yours too,” he said steadily. “I need you not to forget that.” Tony placed his own hand on Gibbs’ chest. “This is mine. And I take care of what’s mine. I promise you, _I_ won’t ever forget it.”

Seemingly stunned by the words, Gibbs blinked at him in the dim light. Finally, he stepped forward into the circle of Tony’s arms, leaning in to brush slightly parted lips with his own. “Yours, huh?” he whispered as if trying out the word on his tongue, still uncertain it applied.

“Mine,” Tony said firmly, closing the deal with a kiss that left no room for further debate.

 

 

 

 

 


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the final chapter before the epilogue. We're so glad you joined us on the journey of this fic. It was a learning experience for both of us and I don't think we could have hoped for a better result! Thank you all for reading.

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Gibbs woke before the sun came up feeling more rested than he had in ages, and it was due in large part to the man in his arms. Lying face to face bathed in the soft light of a gibbous moon, he had fallen into a deep sleep with Tony's fingers carding through his hair and a declaration of love crooned in his ear.

At some point during the night, Tony had rolled over and cuddled into his side. The head resting on his shoulder and the protective arm slung across his belly made Gibbs feel secure as opposed to smothered like cuddling often did. He smiled and placed a kiss in the tousled baby soft hair tickling his neck.

Not wanting to wake Tony any earlier than necessary, Gibbs managed to extract himself without causing more than a whimper. Standing by the bed, he watched in amusement as Tony reached for his abandoned pillow to cuddle. Once he was snuggled in and snoring softly again, Gibbs plucked a t-shirt, shorts and socks from the dresser and made his way to the bathroom.

Padding out into the kitchen a short while later, Gibbs set the coffee maker to begin brewing and scrawled a short note to Tony. "Didn't want to wake you. Back soon. LJG" Plopping down on the couch to tie his running shoes, Gibbs sighed. Normally Tony would join him on his early morning walk, but today he wanted and needed to fly solo. With so many thoughts and ideas swirling around in his head, the last thing Gibbs needed was Tony rambling on about everything and nothing as he sorted it all out.

Thanks to heavy overnight rain showers, the early morning air was thick and heavy as the sun began peeking above the distant horizon lying somewhere beyond the National Mall. Birds soared overhead in the pale sky, their sharp songs mixing with the occasional impatient car horn as the city awoke to greet a new day. Oppressive heat was forecast for later, but a welcome northerly breeze blew in offering a small bit of relief.

Gibbs walked at a brisk pace on the asphalt path meandering along the twists and bends of the Potomac River. He knew the two-mile route well, having walked it daily as part of his self-imposed physical therapy regimen. His destination was the gleaming white marble Lincoln Memorial. Too early for tourists to be milling around, Gibbs took advantage of the solitude the massive monument afforded. Facing the rising sun, he sat on the steps with his long legs stretched out in front of him and looked out over the Reflecting Pool sparkling with the first rays of sunlight.

The Mall was becoming one of Gibbs' favorite places to sit and think. Even at the height of the summer tourist season, the wide-open grounds never seemed crowded. The awe and wonder in the eyes of visitors of all ages reminded him how truly spectacular the landmarks and monuments were. Like the majority of the population who lived and worked in and around D.C., over time he had taken them for granted.

He had taken a lot of things for granted.

The last few days had been some of the most difficult of his deconstructed life. Gibbs' epic meltdown at the ruins of his former home had left him feeling raw and exposed. Physically he felt fine, great, in fact, but he had been woefully unprepared for the emotional fallout. The grief he had kept bottled up was uncorked by the discovery of a single sliver of paper written in Shannon's hand, and was unleashed in spectacular fashion.

As devastating as facing the grim reality of all that he had lost was, it had also been cathartic. Tony had let him rage and willingly let him take what he needed without judgment or question. Even in his frenzied state, Gibbs had been grateful that Tony never attempted to offer empty or patronizing platitudes. Instead, he offered his strength and understanding.

All these years later, Tony was still his 'loyal St. Bernard', but now that loyalty came with one non-negotiable condition; Gibbs was no longer allowed to shut him out. He couldn't run and hide or wallow in pain and sadness alone anymore. Whatever lay ahead would be dealt with together.

Leaning back on his elbows, Gibbs reflected on what a lucky bastard he truly was. Never a devoutly religious man, he had managed to hold on to some degree of faith that everything in life, both the good and the bad, happened for a reason. His life, like his house, would have to be rebuilt from the foundation up. The true blessing lie in the fact that Tony would be by his side for the reconstruction of both - at least he hoped he would be.

Gibbs was ready to move forward and take things to the next level. Weeks of maintaining a slow burn was becoming unbearable - for both of them. Long nights of sensual exploration filled with passion and desire had left them both on the verge of losing control. Now that there was no longer any physical impediment, Gibbs wanted nothing more than to consummate their relationship by making love with Tony.

It hadn't escaped Gibbs' notice, however, that Tony turned pensive and sullen whenever the subject of rebuilding his house was brought up. His insecurities and underlying fear of rejection were manifesting themselves, and it was like the protective walls were going back up. Gibbs knew that despite his repeated assurances to the contrary, Tony was worried that living apart would be a big step backward in their relationship.

It was going to take a serious, bearing of the soul kind of talk to get through Tony's thick skull that he was in it for the long haul. Finally having a relationship worth fighting for, Gibbs would do the one thing he couldn't or wouldn't do with any of his ex-wives - he would talk. Tony deserved to hear it all, his hopes, fears, and his desires. Gibbs didn't possess the greatest mastery of words and wasn't prone to poetic or flowery speech, so straight forward honesty, in his economical style, would have to be enough. What he couldn't convey with words, he would convey with action.

Pulled from his thoughts by the arrival of a small crew of groundskeepers, Gibbs stood and stretched before descending the steps. Having lost track of time, he cursed under his breath when he checked his watch. His plan to surprise Tony with donuts from his favorite bakery would have to be postponed until tomorrow.

Leaving the tranquility of the Mall behind, Gibbs headed home. Home. That one word had taken on new meaning in the last few weeks. Quite simply, "home" was wherever Tony was, which, for the time being was a swanky Georgetown apartment.

Whether intentional or not, Tony had showed his hand last night. Gibbs had taken to spending the evenings in his little workshop putting the finishing touches on Tony's gift. It wasn't nearly enough, nothing would be, but he hoped that the small personal gesture would mean something to him.

Having given Gibbs the space he needed to reflect, to regroup, and to grieve in his own way and in his own time, Tony found his own outlet to deal with his grief - drawing.

Breaking into a relaxed jog, Gibbs thought back to the surprising discovery he made last night.

_Returning from his makeshift workshop earlier than planned, Gibbs placed the hastily cloth-wrapped project he had finished for Tony on the kitchen island. He took a bottle of beer from the fridge and twisted off the cap. While taking a long pull, he noticed a sketchbook and a set of colored pencils lying scattered on the dining room table._

_Taking advantage of Tony belting out an operatic aria from the shower, Gibbs decided to sneak a peek. He had seen hundreds of Tony's skillfully drawn crime scene sketches and dozens of doodles drawn on the backs of pink phone message slips, hastily scratched out while on hold at work, but nothing prepared Gibbs for what he discovered._

_Opening the cover, Gibbs was surprised to find a detailed drawing of the front elevation of his house as it once stood. Tony's attention to detail, right down to the large crack in the sidewalk leading to the front steps, was nothing short of amazing. Pulling out a chair, Gibbs sat and stared at it for several minutes, drinking in the memories the details brought to life. A healthy swig of beer was necessary to swallow down the growing lump in his throat._

_With a shaky hand, Gibbs flipped through a series of partially rendered and crossed out ideas until he got to the last set of completed drawings. Tony had created a composite of a new interior design concept that expanded and incorporated the original architecture of the house. From the outside it would look the same, just bigger - much bigger._

_There would be two big bedrooms, including a master suite with a large attached bathroom and French doors leading out to a small deck, and a home office upstairs. The main floor plan combined the kitchen and dining area into a large eat-in kitchen with at least triple the current amount of counter space and enough room for a long table that would seat eight. The only change to the living room was the addition of built-in bookcases on each side of a much larger fireplace – wood-burning, of course. An enclosed breezeway added off of a slightly larger utility room would connect the house to the garage. Even the back yard was redesigned to showcase a two-level deck. The small upper-level deck had stairs leading down to a large main level deck off of the kitchen. Notes scrawled in the margin included phone numbers of local professional landscaping companies. No detail was left to chance._

_Not surprising, Tony's plans called for a larger basement, which included a steel-reinforced storm shelter bunker built in under the stairs. Gibbs chuckled through tears at the hand-written note at the bottom of the new and improved workshop page: 'How to get a damn boat out?'_

_Tony's ambitious plans were more visionary than any Rick Foster had come up with so far. It would require the addition and expansion of remaining foundation walls, but with nothing left but a barren lot it could be easily done. If necessary, Gibbs could take out a small mortgage to cover any costs above what his homeowner's policy paid out on his claim. He was only a couple of years away from paying off the existing mortgage, so it would be far from a financial hardship._

_Gibbs closed the sketchbook and jumped up from his seat when he heard the singing cease and the shower turn off. Leaning on the kitchen island, it struck Gibbs that Tony's drawings had been his own private way of dealing with the loss of what he considered a home. Despite feeling guilty for snooping, Gibbs smiled._

_Tony padded into the kitchen a few minutes later wearing thin flannel pajama pants and a t-shirt. He beamed and gave Gibbs a quick peck on the lips in passing on his way to the fridge. "You're home early! You want another beer?" he asked._

_"Sure, thanks," Gibbs replied, hoping he didn't look as guilty as he felt._

_Standing across the island from Gibbs, Tony handed him a bottle then furrowed his brow. "What's this?" he asked, pointing to the lump of rags sitting in front of Gibbs._

_"I finally finished it. It's not much, but I hope you like it," Gibbs said, sliding it across the island._

_Tony sat his beer bottle down and pulled the white cloth away to reveal the dark cherry-stained box underneath. It was deeper, but not much larger in dimension than a cigar box. The pendant lights hanging over the island highlighted the grain of the wood beneath the hand-rubbed satin finish._

_"Wow," Tony muttered as he ran a finger along the intricate teak inlaid pattern in the center of the rectangular lid. Setting off the splendor even more were the brushed antique brass corner caps, hinges, and lock. Tony turned the small key in the lock and gasped when he lifted the lid. The interior of the box was lined with thick foam covered in deep forest green felt._

_"Well, whadya think?" Gibbs asked, studying Tony closely as he examined every minute detail of the box. "It's not much, but..."._

_Not taking his eyes off of it, Tony interrupted, muttering softly, "It's beautiful! It's perfect! Jethro - I don't know what to say." He finally looked up and with his moist eyes shining said, "Thank you so much. I love it."_

_Wanting to properly showcase his gift, Tony gave the box a place of honor on the small table by the front door. "I want everyone to see this when they come in," he announced, returning to the kitchen to give Gibbs a proper thank you kiss._

_Gibbs looked into Tony's eyes, which suddenly turned pained under scrutiny. Tony bit his lower lip, and Gibbs knew a confession of some sort would be forthcoming. Being a patient man, he waited._

_"Uh, I have a surprise for you, too," Tony offered nervously, wringing his hands._

_Gibbs allowed Tony to grab his hand and pull him over to the table. He smirked inwardly when Tony handed him the sketch book. Sitting next to each other, Gibbs played innocent and grunted at regular intervals as Tony presented his ideas. The reserved excitement in Tony's voice made Gibbs affection for the man swell._

_At the conclusion, Gibbs turned to him and said, "You should have been an architect. These are great, Tony"._

_He chuckled as Tony sank back in his chair with a relieved sigh. "You're not mad? I mean, I know you weren't thrilled with the plans your real architect came up with. I just thought ..."_

_"Why the hell would I be mad? I love your ideas. In fact, I want you to come with me tomorrow when I meet with Rick. I want to build this, just like you drew it."_

_Gibbs' heart skipped a beat at the absolute look of pride and joy on Tony's face. "Really? You mean it?"_

_Nodding solemnly, Gibbs took Tony's face in his hands and kissed him gently before replying, "Yeah, I really mean it."_

Gibbs gradually picked up the pace, and with half a mile left he broke into a full run. Bandage-wrapped solely as a precaution, his ankle gave no protest to the added stress. His mostly-healed ribs ached and his lungs burned as they filled to capacity with heavy, humidity-laden air with each purposeful stride. Even, controlled breathing combined with the pounding of his heart filled his ears, setting a steady cadence. Sweat running into his eyes was blinked away. The lingering pain in his knees was nothing new, just a constant reminder of decades of missions and misadventures.

By the time he made the final turn onto Tony's street, Gibbs slowed to a casual stroll. Out of shape from weeks of limited physical activity, his heart was pounding beneath his sweat-soaked shirt as he gasped for breath. He might pay dearly for the exertion later, but at that moment Gibbs felt more alive than he had in years, and by God, he was happy.

Foregoing the elevator, Gibbs took the stairs two at a time. He had hoped to catch Tony still in the shower since they still had a little time before they had to leave for work, but the sight that met him when he burst through the door and stepped into the kitchen left him speechless and stopped him in his tracks.

Wearing nothing but a fluffy white towel wrapped low on his hips, Tony leaned against the counter and grinned as he popped the last bite of a piece of crunchy peanut butter toast into his mouth. Water dripped from his hair and ran in tantalizing rivulets down his throat. Gibbs swallowed hard. The wink leveled at him crumbled any last bit of control.

Quickly closing the short distance between them, Gibbs took Tony's freshly shaved face in his hands. Tony swallowed and smiled as Gibbs' thumbs gently brushed crumbs from his lips. Before he could chirp out a cheerful "good morning," Gibbs pounced, seizing his lips in a brutal kiss.

"Wow! What was that for?" Tony stammered when he broke the kiss to catch his breath.

Gibbs shrugged as he ran his hands down Tony's sides. "Just felt like it," he said trying to keep his voice even. He would be tasting the hazelnut and peanut butter-flavored kiss all day.

Tony barked out a laugh. "Well okay then. Anytime you feel the need, just let me know. Hey, you want me to make you some breakfast? We have a little time - although...," Tony trailed off seductively, one hand sliding up under Gibbs' sweaty shirt and the other threatening to unfasten the towel tucked dangerously loose at his waist.

Gibbs cut him and his waggling eyebrows off before he could finish what promised to be a lewd proposal. If he got lost in Tony now, they would never make it to the office. That one kiss would have to tide him over. Stilling Tony's roaming hands, Gibbs slowly shook his head and sighed. It was going to be a long day.

"You know we don't have time for any of that. Just need coffee. I'm gonna grab a quick shower, and you - go put some damn clothes on," Gibbs ordered behind an appreciative ogle and naughty smirk.

Unable to ignore a full-on DiNozzo pout, Gibbs yanked Tony close. Ghosting his lips over the shell of Tony's ear he whispered in a husky, lust-filled tone, "Trust me. I've got all kinds of plans for you tonight."

He drove the point home by palming Tony's burgeoning erection tenting his towel. As expected, Tony responded with a desperate, pleading little squeak and a full-body shudder.

"Not fair teasing, Jethro," Tony grumbled as he followed Gibbs into the bedroom and yanked a suit from his closet.

Stepping into the bathroom, Gibbs turned and smirked. "Oh, so you standing half-naked in the kitchen isn't considered teasing?" He chuckled at Tony's glare and shut the bathroom door.

Tony spent the drive across town trying to talk his way out of sitting in on the meeting with Gibbs' architect. His protestations of, "Gibbs, this guy is gonna laugh me right out of his office! You know that, right?", "Gibbs, I'm a cop, not an architect!", "Gibbs, this guy is gonna think you've lost your damn mind!" all fell on deaf ears as Gibbs pulled into the parking lot and switched off the ignition.

Gibbs chuckled at the perturbed look on Tony's face as he sat in the passenger seat with this arms crossed in defiance. "DiNozzo, put a pin in it and relax! It's going to be fine. Now get your ass in there," Gibbs ordered. He chuckled again as Tony huffed indignantly before opening the car door and climbing out.

Rick gave Tony's sketches a thorough assessment, which only added to Tony's nervous discomfort. He set them down on his desk and smiled at the two agents seated across from him.

"Agent DiNozzo, I have to tell you - I'm impressed.  _Very_  impressed, actually! You have quite a vision - and talent. I'll have to make some minor revisions to meet the City's new Building Code, but we can definitely make these work. Agent Gibbs, give me a couple of days and I'll have final blue prints for your approval. Then, we can bring in our construction team, get all of the permits lined up, and get to work building your new home," Rick announced with a smile before standing and offering Gibbs his hand.

Tony being rendered speechless was a rare event. Gibbs smirked while he sat gob smacked by the architect's praise of his plans. He stood and shook Rick's hand, then jerked Tony to his feet. It took a gentle head slap and a "Hey, DiNozzo," to get his attention. Blinking repeatedly, Tony stammered out an apology, shook the man's hand and let Gibbs lead him out the door.

"You did good, Tony," Gibbs praised as he climbed behind the wheel of the Challenger and turned the key. He grinned at Tony sitting in the passenger seat shaking his head in apparent disbelief. "I'm proud of you."

Gibbs' eyes went wide when Tony faced him wearing a deep frown. Troubled by the sudden change in his demeanor, he grabbed Tony's hand and asked, "Hey, what's wrong?"

Tony shrugged and looked down at their joined hands. "Nothing. Just ... I don't know, wondering where that leaves us. When the house is done, do we just go back to the way things were before? Can we do that? Do you want to do that? I don't know if I can, Jethro. Kind of used to having you around. I don't want to lose that."

Gibbs sighed. He had questions of his own, but sitting in his car in a parking lot was not the time or the place. Tapping Tony under the chin to get his attention, Gibbs said, "Listen to me. Are you listening?" At Tony's tentative nod he declared, "Nothing is going to change the way I feel about you. I love you, Anthony DiNozzo. That sure as hell isn't going to change. We need to talk, about a lot of things, but not here, not like this. Besides, I can hear your stomach growling from over here, so let's get some dinner, then we will talk, okay?"

Tony huffed out a laugh and nodded again, this time with a tight smile. "Well, you know, DiNozzos can always eat."

* * *

 

Tony was pretty sure that he was living the longest meal of his life.

Rather than sit through a quiet dinner pretending he wasn't trying desperately to figure out how to ask questions he was afraid to get answers to, Tony got Gibbs to agree to takeout. So instead of avoiding Jethro's eyes across the table in a crowded restaurant, he absently pushed his spicy curried noodles around and nibbled distractedly at a spring roll while seated at his own dining room table, not even tasting his food while he watched Gibbs single-mindedly devour his meal.

Ever since Gibbs had whisked him into the architect's office earlier, Tony had felt like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop. Hearing about construction crews and blueprints suddenly made everything more real and he now had a definitive end-date for the little haven they had found together, playing house in his apartment like it was the most natural thing in the world. What was he thinking, making plans for a new house for Gibbs? They were happy here, right? They were making it work. He could have left well-enough alone and kept the plans to himself. Why had he even felt the need to make them in the first place?

Tony knew the answer to all of those questions even as they bounced uselessly and relentlessly around the inside of his brain: Because he loved Jethro, that's why. He loved him and he wanted to see him happy, wanted to give him back all the things that had been lost, no matter how much it cost him.

But what about him? Where did he fit in those plans? That was the thing that had his gut so twisted up he couldn't even stomach the best Thai food in the city tonight. That was the thing that was making the seconds tick by like hours as he marched toward the doom of the best thing that had ever happened to him.

"'S gonna get cold," Gibbs said quietly, gently brushing the fingers that held Tony's fork so that he nearly dropped it.

"Yeah," he forced a smile onto his face, "guess I wasn't as hungry as I thought I was."

"Can always put it away for later." Gibbs leaned back in his chair and stretched out his legs, contemplating Tony from beneath the ruse of repose.

"Sure. Good idea." Tony stood and quickly whisked the leftovers and plates into the kitchen, anything to get out from under Gibbs' scrutinizing gaze.

Talk. They were supposed to talk. The thought was hanging over his head like an oppressive weight. Perhaps there was no escaping it, but Tony would certainly use whatever means he could to put it off as long as possible.

Tony had barely gotten the plates in the sink when the flat of Jethro's palm slid into the curve of his lower back and rested there, warm and reassuring.

"You know this emotional availability thing I'm working on here? It goes both ways." His lips grazed the rim of Tony's ear.

Tony let go of the containers he'd been closing up and braced himself with both hands on the cool marble, head hung low between his shoulders. He'd risked everything to be honest with Jethro as he'd held him in his arms on the cold cement of the basement floor the night of the storm, and their lives had dramatically shifted as a result. Why did being honest now feel like an even bigger risk? Perhaps it was because he suddenly felt like he had everything in the world to lose. Taking a deep breath, he jumped off the cliff.

"I don't want you to go," Tony said quietly, forcing the words over his tongue.

The weight of Jethro's hand against his back didn't lessen, didn't falter. "That all?" he asked gently.

"No. Not really." Forsaking the comfort of that soothing touch, Tony turned awkwardly, facing Gibbs but fiddling with something imaginary between his fingers so that he didn't meet his eyes immediately.

"'M up here, you know." Jethro placed his hands over the top of Tony's to still his fidgeting.

Looking up reluctantly, Tony found only patience and understanding in Gibbs' eyes, rather than the fear and frustration he'd been afraid of. All the words suddenly crowded against his lips, fighting to get out at once. "You know me, Gibbs, better than anyone. You know I'd usually rather run from commitment straight into the next romantic disaster than stick it out and feel tied down. I don't make promises, I don't commit. That's a part of me. Or at least it has been until now. I don't know anymore." He ran a shaky hand through his hair. "I don't know why it's different with you, but it is. You're in my bed, my shower, my kitchen every single day, and I honestly wouldn't change a second of it." He paused to take a breath.

"Me either," Gibbs agreed, brows drawing together just a bit as if he was somewhat surprised by the realization himself.

Tony gave no sign that the acknowledgement had really registered. "And I want you to be happy, Jethro, you know I do. It's why I started playing around with those plans, it's why I showed them to you, it's why I went to that meeting with you today. I know this place isn't perfect, I know you need your own space, and I know it makes me a completely selfish asshole, but it's the truth. I don't want you to leave. The thought of you going back to your own place, of me sleeping alone in that big bed? It makes me sad, Jethro. I'm sad when I think about not having you here everyday. And don't think that doesn't scare the fucking hell out of me. Tell me what to do with all of this, please," he pleaded, sagging in relief now that the words were out, still afraid of the reaction they would engender but glad to be free of their burden nonetheless.

Gibbs' lips thinned as each rushed sentence took root and sunk in. He watched Tony thoughtfully, feeling the sincerity beneath the explosion of though. "Been thinking about all that too, you know."

"Yeah?" Tony's head came up hopefully.

"Yeah," Gibbs confirmed earnestly. "Damned if I know exactly what to do about it though. I've lived alone for a long time. Kinda gotten used to it."

The wall was up in the blink of an eye and Tony cut him off, not waiting to hear more. "No. Sure. It's too fast for both of us, I totally understand." He moved around Gibbs awkwardly, seeking the more open space of the living room where he could breathe. "I mean, obviously this can't last. We'll probably be sick of each other in another week or two. Better to step back a little." He tossed this last part at Jethro from the dining room with a plastic grin, walking backwards even as he spoke, desperate to put some distance between them.

Tony retreated to the picture window in the living room, wishing he was a million miles away so that he didn't have to face what was coming. He drew big gulps of air in through his nose, trying to stem the ache in his chest, but it wasn't helping. They had come so far together, further than he'd ever imagined just a few short weeks ago, and the feeling that everything he'd always wanted was suddenly slipping from his tentative grasp made him want to run so far and so fast that the pain could never catch him. It took everything in him not to fly out the door without a look back.

It was a few moments before he sensed Gibbs hovering behind him. Tony could feel the heat of the other man's body, though Jethro made no move to touch him.

"You didn't let me finish," Gibbs said gently.

"It's fine. I think we're on the same page." He tried to keep his voice light but cursed the tightness in his throat that gave him away.

"We were on the same page until you decided to run away. Now did you want to let me finish or would you rather decide what I want?"

Tony remained silent and stiff, staring into the dusky light that had fallen over the city.

"I'd be lying if I told you I knew how to do this, Tony. I've haven't really lived with anyone since Shannon. Not sure if I'd be any good at it long term."

"You had three other wives." There was a sharp edge to it and Tony tried to shake it off. He wasn't pouty by nature and he certainly knew it wasn't the way to get to Gibbs, but Jesus, he was as good as ready to beg the man to stay with him no matter what the cost to his pride.

"I did. And that right there should tell you how shitty I am at this." Gibbs risked putting a hand on Tony's shoulder before continuing. "I tried to live with them, I really did." The words were heavily laced with regret. "Most of the time we were living near each other in the same house instead of really living together, and that's on me, Tony. I didn't know how to let any of them into my life, hell, maybe I didn't really want to. And I certainly didn't want to let them into…into my pain," he finished quietly.

The thickness of Jethro's voice was tearing at his heart and Tony reached up to lace his fingers with those resting on his shoulder and pull Gibbs' arm around his waist, unable to hold back any longer in the face of that admission despite his own hurt feelings.

"I don't want to do that to anyone again, Tony, least of all you." Gibbs molded himself to Tony's back, encircling him in his arms and nosing into his hair.

"I'm sorry, Jethro. I understand." This was it. He was going to lose Leroy Jethro Gibbs in the end, just like everyone else who dared to love him.

"Do you? Because I sure as hell don't." Gibbs held Tony's eyes in the half reflection of the window. "Maybe it's because we had a ten year head start. Maybe it's because you're a man, or an agent, hell, maybe it's just because you're you, Tony, but this is different. It's different for me with you. I'm different. I don't know what I expected when I realized things were changing between us but it sure as hell wasn't this." His hand slipped beneath Tony's shirt and flattened against his stomach as if the skin to skin contact was some kind of anchor.

"I didn't expect to want you this much," Gibbs murmured, pressing his hips in close so that Tony could feel the hint of erection that his mere proximity aroused. "And I never expected to need you this much, Tony. Never thought it would be so damn easy…" he tilted his head and pressed his lips reverently against Tony's pulse, "so damn easy to love you."

Tony felt as though he was falling through the glass. Jethro's words wrapped around him as solid as his arms and held him fast, securing him to the ground when his heart felt like it could fly out of his chest. "Jethro…" He didn't have any words beyond that. Nothing could match or counter the immensity of Gibbs' declaration.

"Shh…not done," Gibbs chided, tightening his arms. "You never let me finish."

"You never have this much to say." Tony leaned into Gibbs' embrace, tilting his head slightly toward the lips that moved to rest just behind his ear.

"Owe you more than words, Tony, and I want to give it to you too." Gibbs let the silence beat between them for a few seconds. "How would you feel about giving this place up? When the house is done, I mean. Understand if you're not ready for that and it's a lot to ask, but as much as you don't want me to leave, I don't want to go. Not without you."

Tony's eyes widened and he turned to face Gibbs. "Are we talking about what I think we're talking about, Jethro?"

"Hope so." Gibbs studied him, gauging his real reaction to the proposition. "That house is gonna be half you already, Tony. After all this, do you really think I'd be able to go a night in it without wanting you there?"

"But you just said you're used to living alone." Still unable to believe he was being offered exactly what he wanted, Tony didn't understand why he seemed to be trying to talk Gibbs out of it. "You won't be able to send me home when I piss you off, you know. And you won't be able to drive me away. I'm not easy to shake off."

Gibbs laughed, a musical sound in contrast to Tony's somewhat dire forewarnings. "I've noticed that about you." He grew slightly more serious. "This works both ways though, Tony. You wanted me to stay here with you and you say you haven't regretted it, but giving up your place is a hell of a lot different than asking me to share it with you."

Tony regarded him soberly. "I don't want to screw this up," he admitted. He hadn't won any medals when it came to lasting relationships either.

Jethro brought a hand to Tony's face and traced his cheekbone with the pad of his thumb. "Have at least a month or two before the house is ready to live in I'd guess. Gives us both time to see if we can not fuck things up, keep testing the waters." Gibbs' voice lowered as he crowded Tony back against the glass which was still warm with the heat of the day. "But I don't expect to feel differently," he added, leaning in close and slipping a hand between them.

Tony shuddered as the heel of Gibbs' palm flattened across his zipper and rocked. Broad, short nails dragged slowly back and forth over the thick denim covering his swelling erection. "Me either." The blues of Gibbs' eyes were mere inches away, steady until they tracked down to Tony's parted lips.

Jethro's mouth hovered over his, fitting into his open spaces but not touching. Tony kept his arms at his sides while one of Gibbs' came up to brace against the glass and the other began slowly working open the buttons of his shirt. As each catch popped, Tony felt the slow, deliberate sweep of calloused fingers over his skin. "You're not asking me to move in with you just so you can avoid shopping for furniture, are you?" he breathed into Jethro's mouth, dipping his head just a little to brush their lips together.

"Do like the bed." Gibbs finished with the buttons and pushed impatiently at the fabric that bunched and stuck around Tony's shoulders. He nipped lightly at the other man's lip while he tugged the shirt awkwardly but insistently down long arms.

"It's a good bed," Tony agreed, stealing a more lingering kiss as he slipped his hands beneath Gibbs' polo and pushed upward, letting his fingers make trails through the thick hair of his chest on their ascent.

"Haven't really put it through all its paces yet though." Gibbs pulled back enough to let Tony drag the shirt over his head and then toss it somewhere to their right, leaning back in to feel the warmth of skin on skin before either of them had time to draw a full breath. "I'm reserving judgment."

"We could change that," Tony's fingers fixed in Jethro's hair, holding him back so the words had time to register while he tilted his hips and slowly rolled them for emphasis.

Jethro didn't speak but his pupils flared in answer and his next breaths came short and sharp as his fingers curled against the glass.

Tony knew he should be scared as fuck, ready to bolt out the door at the mere thought of the place where they had just taken things, but the only real thought in his head as Jethro's mouth pressed sweet and hot and needy against his own was that this was the very first thing he had done that felt unquestionably right since the moment he had walked through the NCIS doors over a decade ago.

He opened to the brush of Jethro's tongue, not insistent but seeking, sampling, drawing him out rather than demanding. Eager lips chased his own, twisted and pulled and pressed until he was kiss-swollen and craving, unable to get his fill of Jethro's taste across his tongue. Jethro kissed as thoroughly as he did anything else in life, kissed like nothing else mattered outside of the moment, like Tony was the sole focal point of the entire universe, and the intensity of it had heavy heat pooling in his belly and his toes curling against the cool hardwood.

Between kisses, Gibbs whispered filthy things against Tony's tender lips, promises of future iniquities, possibilities punctuated by the brush of knowing fingertips over tumescent flesh.

The image of Jethro fucking him up against the glass, coming quick and hard and messy inside him while he watched the headlights of cars pass below flashed unbidden across Tony's brain, and he moaned plaintively into Jethro's mouth, twisting his hips and slipping a hand into the waist of his jeans to cup his ass.

Rather than spinning him around as Tony was half-prepared for, Gibbs took a step backward, refusing to give up the fever of Tony's mouth as he tugged deliberately at his belt loops. "Come'er," Jethro rumbled against his lips, backing up awkwardly as his deft fingers reached between them and flicked the button on Tony's fly.

They made good progress toward the bedroom until a calloused hand flattened against Tony's belly and slid down to palm his cock, drawing a tight hiss from between his teeth.

Tony's fingers fisted against Gibbs' shoulders as he drove his back into the wall and thrust himself between clutching fingers. He didn't want to think about being gentle tonight, but the little grunt Jethro gave against his lips made him pause.

"You cleared for this, Marine?" Tony panted, pulsing his hips and mouthing at the underside of Jethro's jaw, but lessening the pressure against his upper body just a little.

"Bet your ass I am." Gibbs flipped and had Tony pinned to the opposite side of the little portico between the living room and bedroom in an instant, hard muscle of his thigh between the younger man's legs as he pushed his jeans and boxers over his hips. Licking up a tendon in Tony's long neck, Gibbs' lips settled just below his ear and he sucked the tender lobe of it between his teeth, twisting and working the sensitive flesh until Tony shuddered against him.

"Jesus, you know how I feel about my ears, Jethro," Tony murmured, dragging his nails up Gibbs' ass and fisting them in the small of his back.

"I do."

The syllables were awkward around the earlobe still trapped between Jethro's sharp teeth, but they sent a rush of heat down Tony's spine.

"And this spot on the side of your neck." Gibbs' mouth moved down to lave wetly at the delicious bit of slightly salty skin, sucking just hard enough to draw heat to the surface.

"And your nipples," he mumbled against Tony's throat, "particularly the left one." His calloused thumb worked back and forth over the tiny bit of erectile tissue, building it up to a stiff little peak before pinching and flicking it back and forth with the tip of his fingernail while Tony pressed into the touch greedily.

Tony closed his eyes and let his head drop back against the wall. His body was on fire, trembling beneath Jethro's knowing hands, hands that had taken the time to learn him for just this moment. He had every intention of reciprocating the attentions in abundance, but for the moment he was enjoying the feeling of being loved, of being worshiped by the hands of a man so intensely single minded about his passions, so utterly absorbed in his ardor for him, that it dwarfed every intimate experience in his memory.

Gibbs dropped down to his knees slowly, following Tony's body down with his lips and tasting every inch of skin he could reach on the way. His mouth skated into the slight inward curve from Tony's ribs to his belly and trailed hot and wet over quivering flesh that shook involuntarily beneath his touch.

Unable to stifle the little needy moan that crawled up his throat, Tony gave himself over to Gibbs' caresses, let the little fires the other man's mouth lit on his skin spark and spread out of control. But when Jethro nosed hungrily at the base of his cock and licked intently into the crease of his thigh, he reached down to fist his fingers in silver hair and pull him back.

"You gonna let me have a turn before you finish this off right here?" Tony looked down at Jethro's tilted up face, the heated lust written plainly in his eyes as Gibbs' tongue flicked out to wet his lips and gather Tony's taste from them while his mouth bloomed in a self-satisfied smirk.

Fingers digging into his hips, Gibbs rose fluidly, ribs skimming over Tony's until they stood face to face again, bodies pressed close, arms coiled around each other. "Don't think this is ever gonna be finished for me." He bowed forward and dropped his head into the curve of Tony's shoulder, fingers curling and clutching at his back while his mouth worked feverishly, seemingly insatiable.

The depth of passion in Jethro's voice shattered something inside of Tony and his hands suddenly tried to be everywhere, to gain some sort of purchase against the tide of his own desire. A craving was stirring inside of him that he had seldom felt and even more rarely indulged, and yet he felt absolutely powerless against its pull now. The skin between them was almost too much, his body wanted-needed the deeper connection, the feeling of possession that would only come with Jethro inside of him. He pushed at the other man's denim-clad hips, near desperate to dispense with the last bits of material separating them.

"Jethro," Tony murmured against soft skin, "we can do this against this wall, on top of the piano, hell, we can fuck on the kitchen counter if you want, but if you plan to make it to the bed tonight, you'd better do it soon." He raked his nails over the swell of Jethro's bottom and nipped at his shoulder, pulsing his hips to get some sort of friction for his aching cock.

They moved the last few feet to the bedroom in an awkward dance as Jethro kicked out of his jeans blindly, fingertips still wrapped around Tony's nape while the sweet caress of the older man's tongue between his lips made his head feel muddled and dizzy.

When the backs of Tony's knees met the edge of the mattress, he toppled willingly, landing with his weight on his elbows to drink in the deliciousness of Jethro standing between his thighs, stoking his cock in long twisting arcs.

"Back up," Jethro said throatily, "against the pillows."

Something in Tony thrilled to the tight rasp of the command, the little hitch in his breathing that said Gibbs was fighting to stay in the moment, fighting to stay in control. He pushed himself back slowly, never dropping Jethro's gaze, until he felt the pillows behind him and settled, letting them take his weight.

Gibbs' lips were slightly parted, his breaths shallow, skin flushed. Tony was sin incarnate as he stretched languidly atop the mattress, letting the long, thin fingers of one hand slide down slowly to tease at the head of his cock. His tongue snaked out involuntarily as Tony brought his index finger to his lips and plunged it inside, eyes fluttering closed at the hedonistic pleasure of tasting himself. Tightening his fingers around his suddenly twitching dick, Gibbs moved to the nightstand, eyes still glued to Tony.

Tony felt the cold plastic of the small but expensive bottle of lubricant hit his thigh as the mattress dipped beneath Jethro's weight. Drawing his knees up, Tony spread his thighs wantonly and planted his heels firmly on the bed. He loved watching Gibbs watch him, loved how his lover's cock jerked and wept hungrily for him, spilling little drops of desire onto the clean sheets. His teeth chafed against his bottom lip as he toyed with his own nipples, slowly slid his palms down over his flat belly and beneath his cock, drawing little circles around his pulsing puckered hole with his fingertip.

Jethro's eyes were flat-black and ravenous as he moved slowly between Tony's parted thighs. They glued to the unhurried, deliberate movements of his fingers until he finally placed his hands on Tony's ankles and lifted, scooting forward until the backs of the other man's legs were supported by his own.

Holding his breath as Gibbs crawled up his body, pressing open mouthed kisses along his flanks, over his shoulders, into the hollow of his throat, Tony sighed his contentment as warm, solid weight descended on him, pushed him deeper into the bed until his senses were utterly consumed and surrounded. Jethro shifted a little, brought a knee beneath his thigh, and Tony writhed in pleasure and need at the feeling of a thick cock nudging his taint.

Teeth rasping over the rough of Tony's jaw, Gibbs raised his head, smoothing the already-damp hair back from the younger man's forehead and then dipping low again to catch his mouth in the softest of kisses. "Been awhile for me," he muttered against Tony's parted lips, drawing the plumpness of the bottom lobe between his teeth slowly and then releasing when Tony's breath caught. "For this, I mean."

"For me too." Tony groped beside him for the little bottle and drew the rough seam of it across the smooth inside of Jethro's arm. "You think you remember where everything goes?"

Gibbs took the proffered tube and lifted onto one elbow. "Think it will come to me." He pulsed his hips, driving the head of his cock into the soft heat below Tony's balls.

"Don't use too much." Tony's tongue darted out to wet his lips in anticipation as Jethro flipped the cap and moved back onto his knees. He missed the heaviness of hard muscle pressed against him almost immediately and reached down to stroke his dick, drawing a hissing breath as Jethro's now-slick fingers pressed flat and cold up against the heat of his body. Slippery moisture dripped down his crack and Tony made a tight fist around his head as one of Gibbs' long digits breached him. Heedless of the slight sting, Tony pressed into the touch shamelessly, desperate for this cursory little hand fuck to be over, frantic for the feel of Jethro's cock, hot and hard and pulsing inside of him.

Palm flat against Tony's belly, Gibbs seemed to sense his urgency, the tight twitches of his muscles, the needy little hums in the back of his throat. Sweeping his finger upwards, he was rewarded with the twist of Tony's hips and a shaky gasp that said he had found his mark. A few more strokes and he pulled out, taking a minute to slick Tony just a little more before he settled back on his heels and traced the bones of Tony's ankles with his fingertips. Slowly, slowly, he inched upward, palms pressing into Tony's calves, ghosting over the insides of his thighs. His thumbs traced the long line of Tony's cock, milking a few glistening drops from his thick head.

Tony's eyes fluttered and he kept them focused by sheer force of will, holding his breath as Jethro palmed his cock and angled his hips. Drawing his knees up, he gripped the backs of his thighs, shaking a little when he felt the sweep of Gibbs' erection gliding up and down over his hole.

When friction suddenly became insistent pressure, Tony pushed into the tight aching burn of stretching muscle, forced his body to open and accept the invasion which brought an immediate sense of fullness, of connection.

Jethro's jaw twitched as he moved inside of Tony, the strain of holding back written as plainly across his features as the swelling ecstasy. Once the head of his cock was firmly seated, he leaned forward carefully, catching the backs of Tony's knees with his elbows and lowering his weight. He kissed a line of fleeting kisses up the other man's throat, over his jaw, and moved to hover just above his mouth.

Tony clenched his muscles tight, trying to draw Jethro further inside, but only succeeded in dragging a gasping huff of breath from the man above him. "Need more," he entreated, nudging Gibbs' nose with his own.

"Jesus, Tony. Hold still unless you want this over with right now," Jethro panted tightly, the heady sensation of possession proving nearly too much for his control.

Unable to argue with such a desperate demand despite his own desires, Tony did as requested, trying to still his breathing and his movements. A moment later, Jethro tensed and the thick shaft stretching him open moved deeper, sinking into his body at a frustratingly slow pace.

A few short strokes and Jethro nudged a little deeper, near to hilting in the heated clasp of Tony's body. He retreated just to the edge and moved quickly to swallow Tony's gasp as he drove in fully.

Tony felt the ache of rippling heat in places he had almost forgotten about, felt the twitch of Jethro's cock deep inside his belly. The impossibility of this moment, the fact that it had taken a so-called Act of God to bring them to this point, was not lost on him for a second. The lips moving against his were deliciously tender, the hand caressing the side of his face more loving than he ever could have dreamed. There was a part of him that wanted to stay just like this, to draw out the rapturous bliss of the connection between them which went far beyond the physical and into the realm of the undefinable. As Jethro rolled his hips and began to move, however, Tony let himself be swept into the ecstasy of being made love to, of being claimed, as no other had done before.

The slow pulse of Jethro's hips gradually picked up, became bolder and greedier. His mouth glued to Tony's, taking in the thrust of the younger man's tongue which matched pace with the plunge of his own cock.

Heat built between Tony's hips, tightened and throbbed with each meeting of their bodies. He was loath to give up the union with Jethro's mouth but as the warmth in his belly coiled tighter, his body craved more air than he was getting. Thigh muscles burning with effort, he raised his knees higher and locked his ankles in the small of Gibbs' back, moaning at the new sensations the changed angle brought. His cock was still pressed tight between them, slicking their sweat-dampened skin with each stroke.

Something shifted and Jethro's thrusts suddenly became more urgent and focused. "Feels so good inside you," he panted against Tony's ear, "so hot and tight. So hard not to come right now." His teeth sank into the flesh of Tony's earlobe, milking a strangled groan.

"Little more," Tony begged, rolling his hips in time with each of Jethro's measured thrusts. "Getting close. Don't wanna stop." One hand fisted in the sheets, the other in Gibbs' hair. "Never wanted anyone inside me like this…so good, Jethro…so fucking good."

Jethro transferred his weight to one elbow, wrapped an arm around Tony's thigh and began to drive in hard. Longer strokes that gave them both more of the delicious friction they needed to finish.

The heat climbing Tony's spine felt like a living thing, squeezing, pulsing, forcing the air from his lungs in rapid, panting breaths and tight little needy grunts. He turned his head and dragged his tongue over the salted skin of Jethro's throat while he reached for his own cock and began to tug frantically. He could hear the shudder in Jethro's breath, feel the flutter of his belly muscles that was his lover's most intimate tell.

"Little faster," Tony mumbled desperately, pulling harder at his too-swollen head as the rhythm of Jethro's hips began to stutter. "Shit, I'm gonna come…" His fist tightened around his cock, trying to hold back against the tightening of his balls, the pressure at the base of his spine, just a few seconds longer. With Gibbs pounding into him fast and deep, it was like trying to turn back the tide of the ocean. "Fuck, I'm coming…fuck…Jethro." Head pressed back into the pillows, the first wave hit him hard, taking his breath as he spent himself onto his chest and belly. His fingers twisted and tapped against Jethro's nape and he felt the heated explosion of the other man's orgasm against his insides. The searing warmth of a ravenous mouth covered his and they traded breath for breath in the throes of combined release.

Tony's body shook as Jethro's cock continued to pulse inside him and he smiled involuntarily as the pleasure coursing through his body in breaking waves began to fade to delicious heaviness.

"Love you." Jetho let his sweat-dampened forehead drop down to Tony's and tried to support his weight with arms that felt like leaden Jello.

"Love you," Tony echoed, completely content for the first time he could remember.

They lay together, drifting in combined bliss for a few precious moments. Tony felt the loss as Jethro softened and slipped messily from inside him and yet he had no desire to move.

"Think the bed held up rather nicely," Tony turned on his side as Gibbs' weight moved off of him. He dipped a finger down to his belly and poked tentatively at the drying streaks of his own cum, wrinkling his nose at the cold, clammy feel against his skin.

"Don't know," Jethro bent his arm and rested his head on his palm. "Bed's a serious decision. Might need to give it a few more tests before we commit. As for the rest," he swiped a finger across Tony's stomach and brought it to his own mouth, spreading the taste across his tongue, "I'm sold." He leaned over and kissed Tony lingeringly, feeding him the salted tang from his lips.

* * *

 

Tony woke sometime in the quiet early morning hours. The light through the windows hadn't begun to blue yet and the yellow of the streetlamps still cast eerie shadows around the room. He slowly worked his way out of Jethro's arms, smiling at the somnolent sigh that followed him from their bed. Moving carefully and quietly, he padded to the living room, not bothering with clothing. The cool air felt good against his bare skin and he smiled at the tender ache in his bottom that pulsed with each step, the pleasantly throbbing reminder that Jethro had filled his most intimate spaces a few short hours ago.

Moving to the window, he pushed aside the heavy curtains and looked out at the still-sleeping city. A flash of light to his left suddenly pulled his gaze and he caught the lingering streaks of lightning before they faded out completely. A shiver coursed through his body even before he felt the glass tremble slightly beneath his fingertips. Perhaps it was the storm that had drawn him from sleep.

Tony watched in rapt fascination as it swept over the city and obscured the already faint stars. He cracked a window slightly and drew a deep breath, filling his lungs with warm night air, heavy with the scent of rain. Another flash, closer this time but still up among the clouds, and fat drops began to pelt the glass. This storm had none of the violence of the one that had swept over his life a few short weeks ago, none of its restless hunger. The thunder that followed rumbled low and long and Tony closed his eyes and let the voice of the storm wash over him.

He had no idea how long he stood there, senses wrapped in the gentle embrace of the storm, but he was startled when strong arms circled his waist and pulled him close.

"Missed you." Jethro's voice was like the thunder, soft and low.

"There was a storm." A flash of light near the horizon punctuated the sentence and Jethro trembled a little. Tony reached a hand behind him and wrapped it around the curve of Jethro's neck, holding him close. "It's moving away from us now," he said quietly, voice a near whisper against the sudden stillness.

Jethro unwrapped himself slowly, pulling Tony's palm to his lips. "Come back to bed with me," he mouthed against soft skin.

"Never thought you'd ask," Tony replied thickly.

As they moved from the window together, they felt the last of the storm fade away.

 

 


	19. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue! A look into the future as Tony and Gibbs build a house and a new life together.
> 
> Again, many thanks to all of you for the kudos and comments on this story. We are both so glad you have enjoyed it.

Gibbs was under no illusion that living with Tony would always be smooth sailing. Spending every hour of every day together was a lot to ask of two lonely people wholly unprepared to find themselves thrust together by circumstances beyond their control. Like any couple adjusting to living together, getting on each other's nerves was inevitable.

Both of them could be stubborn and unyielding even when it came to the most mundane of domestic tasks. Gibbs hated dishes being left in the drainer to air dry, preferring to towel dry and put them away, and he was a stickler for squeezing the toothpaste tube from the bottom. Tony insisted that the bath towels be folded in thirds, his logic being that they stacked better that way, and he was adamant in his belief that there was only one way to properly load the dishwasher.

With no brand loyalty to speak of, Gibbs shopped for value and bought whatever was on sale. He really couldn't care less which laundry detergent (Tide), fabric softener (Snuggle), or toilet paper (Charmin Ultrasoft) they used so he deferred to Tony, and was just as passive when it came to picking out bathroom and kitchen fixtures, flooring, windows, paint, and appliances for the new house.

Petty issues were usually put to rest with playful scolding, but the house was the one subject that led to their most contentious arguments. Tension had been growing between them since the final plans were approved. With little in the way of oversight on his spending, Tony set to work creating his idea of a dream house. He did an admirable job of blending his more exotic tastes with Gibbs' more understated style. Gibbs only had to use his veto power twice, but otherwise Tony had free reign.

Now with completion only weeks away, bills for all of the little extras Tony had ordered on the sly started pouring in. The final cost was projected to be nearly $30,000 over the initial estimate. It wasn't the cost that bothered Gibbs, but Tony's stubborn insistence on paying for it. He knew he was being unreasonable and that Tony meant well, but taking money from him felt like charity.

Gibbs had secured a short-term mortgage, and quite frankly he didn't think the subject warranted any discussion or debate. Despite the ridiculous prices of the high-end appointments, he liked everything Tony had chosen for the house. Gibbs figured the added expense was worth it since it meant that he didn't have to waste time fretting over which kitchen faucet or type of light switches to buy.

Saturday morning found Gibbs staring down into his coffee when Tony bound into the kitchen after his post-run shower. His anger simmered just beneath the surface, but even a sweet peck on the lips and a cheerful "Good morning" did nothing to appease him.

Unaware of Gibbs' sour mood, Tony filled a mug with coffee and rambled on excitedly about their planned visit to the work site. Back to back cases had kept them from doing more than a quick drive-by every few days to check on progress during the last two weeks. Coffee suitably doctored with a copious amount of hazelnut creamer, Tony turned around to find Gibbs glaring at him.

"Something wrong, Jethro?" Tony asked before taking a sip of his coffee.

"What the hell is this?" Gibbs growled as he slid a sizable check, made payable to him, written in Tony's familiar script, across the glossy smooth granite surface. "I thought we settled this."

"No - you settled it. I never agreed to anything," Tony shot back defensively.

Gibbs noticed the twitching of his jaw and prepared for yet another pointless argument over money. He held his ground as Tony rounded the island and stepped right into his personal space. Unlike past confrontations, Tony didn't look mad. This time, he looked hurt.

Looking down as he shuffled his feet, Tony spoke softly. "I thought we agreed we were in this together."

Gibbs sighed. Keeping his voice firm yet soft he replied, "Yeah, we did, but we're talking about a hell of a lot of money, Tony. I told you I was taking out a loan."

Tony slowly raised his head and frowned. "But that's just it. You don't have to - you shouldn't have to. Hell, if it makes you feel better consider it an interest-free loan. You can pay it back – whenever. Jethro, I know it's your house and I'm just moving in with you, but ... "

At last the penny dropped. Gibbs cocked his head and interrupted with an incredulous, "Is that what this is about? That it's my house? Tony, you designed it and you're doing all the work picking out stuff for it, so as far as I'm concerned it's as much yours as it is mine."

"So then let me help pay for it, you stubborn bastard!" Tony shouted, throwing his hands up in frustration. "Otherwise, what's the point? If I'm just going to be a guest in your house, I might as well just stay here." He stepped back and crossed his arms over his chest in a show of protective defiance.

That stinging verbal blow hit its mark. Gibbs' eyebrows shot up and he swallowed hard as Tony leaned against the counter looking equal parts hurt and pissed. He knew Tony could match him in the stubbornness department, but his current posture and tone were downright combative. Tony was ready for a fight, and he wasn't going to fight fair.

The realization of what Tony was asking hit Gibbs with full force, and he suddenly felt like a complete idiot. This scene was all too familiar and one he had been an unwilling participant in more times than he cared to count. It could have been any of his ex-wives standing there scowling at him, manicured hands on hips, stomping their foot, and demanding in a shrill voice to be heard, understood, and appreciated.

Knowing that this battle was well and truly lost, Gibbs took a deep breath then slowly walked over and reached for Tony's hand. He let out a relieved sigh when it wasn't jerked from his tentative gentle grasp. When Tony squeezed his hand in response, the last of Gibbs' resolve slipped away.

"It really means that much to you?" Gibbs asked, searching green eyes and getting a jerky nod in response.

Gibbs steeled himself when Tony cleared his throat. "Yeah, actually it does - a lot. Look, I know it's still your house, I totally get that, but I want it to be our home. I thought that's what you wanted too," Tony questioned with a pronounced shrug.

Another body blow. Tony was going for the knockout.

Holding Tony's hand tighter, Gibbs declared, "Of course I do! Tony, I want to share my whole life with you – including the damn house. I never want you to feel like you're just a guest or a roommate. It will be your home – our home, no matter what".

Not breaking eye contact, Tony announced, "I saw the estimates and all the bills, Jethro. I know that the insurance money you got isn't going to come close to what it's gonna cost, and that's on me. I planned it, now they're building it, and you shouldn't have to go in debt because of it - not when I have my trust fund just sitting in a freaking bank. I don't want to keep fighting about this, but this is the only way I can, I don't know, feel like I'm contributing something. I may not own the house, and that's fine, whatever, but I need to do this, Jethro. I need to feel that I'm a part of this somehow."

Powerless against the pained look in Tony's eyes, Gibbs gave up the fight. If he had a white flag he would have waved it in complete surrender. He had vowed that he would do whatever it took to make Tony happy and put his insecurities to rest once and for all. If it meant swallowing his foolish pride, so be it. He released Tony's hand and reached up to cradle his face in his hands.

After leaning in and placing a chaste kiss on Tony's pouty lips, Gibbs looked into his eyes. "All right, I give up. You win. I don't want to fight either. If it means that much to you, I'll take your damn money."

To drive the point home, Gibbs picked up the $30,000.00 check, folded it in half, and stuffed it in his back pocket. "Go ahead and spend whatever you want on the house. Furnish it and decorate it however you want. It's your house, your home, too."

Gibbs could tell that a victorious Tony was trying to play it cool, but nothing was going to stop the beaming DiNozzo smile growing on his lips. With fingers curled in the belt loops of Gibbs' jeans Tony tugged him close. Gibbs went willingly and smiled as Tony mumbled a sincere, "Thank you, Jethro," against his lips before claiming them in a long, languid kiss.

When they broke apart, Tony's eyes were once again bright and twinkling. Not wanting to look or feel like a total pushover, Gibbs put his arms around Tony's waist and asked in an almost menacing tone, "Now, are we done?"

Tony's grinned and draped his arms over Gibbs' shoulders. Playing with the short hairs at the nape of Gibbs's neck he teased, "Yep, we're done. You wanna shake on it?"

Gibbs rolled his eyes. "Thanks, but I'll pass." He then proceeded to kiss the smug smirk off of Tony's lips.

* * *

Tony was barely able to sit still as Gibbs slowly navigated the familiar streets. Construction to rebuild the decimated neighborhood was in full swing. Signs advertising construction companies who had converged on the area staked claim to sites as houses began to spring up in fairly quick succession. The scant few that had escaped major damage had been repaired and were again occupied.

Foremen could be heard barking out orders as flatbed trucks rolled in loaded down with lumber, floor joists, roof trusses, and giant stacks of plywood. The rapid staccato of dozens of pneumatic framing and roofing nailers provided the soundtrack as the massive piles of framing supplies dwindled.

Gibbs pulled up to the curb with a smile. Next to him Tony gaped. The sprawling, split-level house was framed, sheeted and covered with Tyvek house wrap, and all of the doors and windows had been put in place. One crew was busy installing the pine green vinyl siding while another crew swarmed the tar-papered roof laying shingles.

"Holy shit!" Tony exclaimed as he clawed for the door handle, his eyes glued to the tableau before him. "It's almost done!"

Gibbs snorted and climbed out of the car. The exterior work may be nearing completion, but from experience he knew damn well that the interior would be a whole different story. When Tony caught up to him in the front yard, Gibbs took his hand and led him toward the wide-open front door.

"Oh, I doubt that. Come on, let's see if they've done anything on the inside yet," Gibbs suggested. Tony nodded and beamed in response.

As expected, the interior was a maze of beams and wall studs, miles of electrical wire and exposed HVAC duct work. Tony sighed and frowned at the big stacks of drywall and huge rolls of insulation piled in the middle of what would be the living room. In the dining room, a crew was installing thick, pink Corning insulation between the studs and covering it with vapor barrier plastic.

"What's wrong?" Gibbs asked, puzzled by Tony's frown. Except for the kitchen, it looked like the walls and ceilings were ready for sheetrock. All things considered, the house looked pretty damn good to his trained eye.

"Look at this place! There is no way in hell we'll be able to move in next month," he replied sadly. Waving his arms around he grumbled, "It's just a big empty."

Amused, Gibbs rolled his eyes. He pulled Tony close, noticing but paying no mind to the group of workers wearing "Weldon Drywall, Inc." t-shirts coming in through the front door.

"It'll be done on time. I promise," Gibbs said with all the assurance of a man with construction experience.

While most boys his age were out in the fields detassling corn during the hot summer months, Gibbs spent two summers working for Jack's friend, "Bud" Williams, razing barns, building sheds and additions, and doing general handyman jobs around town. He made pretty good money for a teenager and learned the ins and outs of wiring, plumbing, and with his attention to detail he had mastered framing. If not for his dream to escape the dusty little town to become a Marine, he probably would have ended up running his own construction company.

"Let's check out the rest of it," Tony suggested, grabbing Gibbs' hand and tugging him through the kitchen and down the breezeway leading to the newly constructed three-stall garage.

"Wow!" Tony exclaimed when he stepped into the garage. His eyes scanned over the dozens of boxes of fixtures stacked next to the rich walnut finished kitchen cabinets and bathroom vanities. The new kitchen appliances, counter tops, washer and dryer, and all the materials to build the custom tile and glass shower in the master bathroom lined one long wall. "It's like Christmas on steroids!" Tony laughed.

While Tony inspected the cabinets and tested the drawers, Gibbs crept up and wrapped his arms around him from behind and crooned in his ear, "You did good Tony."

The gleaming open staircase led up to the second level. The upstairs part of the house was laid out much the same as the old house, except that the rooms were markedly larger. Except for paint and flooring the rooms were nearly finished.

Tony pointed out which room would serve as their home office and which would be delegated as the guest room. The last room inspected was the master bedroom, complete with a huge walk-in closet with plenty of built-in storage to house Tony's extensive shoe collection. The attached master bathroom was roughed in and ready for the plumbing to be finished and the custom shower to be installed.

Gibbs opened the French double doors leading out onto the deck. Leaning against the railing, he looked out over the activity in the backyard as a masonry crew worked on the brick patio. He sighed in contentment when Tony's arms wrapped around him and pulled him tightly back against his chest.

"What are you thinking?" Tony asked, resting his chin on Gibbs' shoulder.

"Mmmm. Just thinking how amazing this place is going to be and how happy I am that you're gonna be here with me," Gibbs replied.

Tony kissed his cheek then held him tighter. They stood silently swaying together for several minutes just enjoying the closeness. For Gibbs, now that he had found happiness again there would be no turning back. Even though the house would have the same address as before, the ghosts were gone along with any guilt he felt about allowing himself to love again. Years of memories, both good and bad, would always be with him but Gibbs was ready to move on and create new ones.

Tony's voice broke Gibbs from his thoughts. "I love you, you know that, right?"

Gibbs turned in the circle of Tony's arms and smile. "Yeah, I know. I love you too. Don't ever forget that."

They saved the basement for last. Gibbs stopped at the door and took a deep breath before turning the knob and switching on the light. The bare wooden stairs looked exactly the same and creaked in all the right places under his footfalls. Gibbs felt a jolt of déjà vu as he slowly descended with Tony right on his six.

The first thing to catch Gibbs' attention was the new window. 'How the hell did they get me out through there,' he thought to himself. The memory of being in agony and helpless as McGee and Palmer carried him to safety flooded back in causing him to shiver involuntarily.

Hearing a soft sob, Gibbs turned around and found Tony sitting on the cold concrete,, hugging his knees to his chest as he leaned back against the brand new high-efficiency furnace inside the steel-reinforced bunker beneath the stairs. Gibbs didn't need to ask Tony what he was thinking. They both knew it was only by the grace of God that they both survived that night.

Gibbs nodded when Tony's tear-filled eyes met his. He sat down next to him and pulled Tony into a desperate hug. They had spoken about the events of that horrible night but never the emotions associated with them. Pent up fear of what could have happened was brought to the surface. The emotional release was cathartic. Even with dozens of strangers working just above them, they were all alone.

"It's okay, Tony. It's okay," Gibbs murmured into soft hair. Tony's tears fell dampening his shirt. Gibbs just held him tighter.

After a few minutes Tony's sobs ceased. He extracted himself and leaned back against the furnace again. Grabbing a hold of Gibbs' hand, his breath hitched a few times as he attempted to speak. Finally, he managed to croak, "It all started right here, you know - you and me. I was holding you, praying for all I was worth, rambling on like an idiot, and that's when I kissed you." He huffed out a nervous laugh. "You know, I think I was more afraid that you were gonna come to and punch me. But ... if I was going to lose you, I needed that kiss to hold onto. Gibbs? Can I kiss you again?"

Gibbs turned his head and smiled. "You never have to ask for permission."

Tony climbed into Gibbs' lap facing him. Cradling Gibbs' face in his hands, he said, "I love you, Jethro. So much."

Well-rehearsed kisses followed, neither man fighting for control. Their tongues danced a sensual tango. Lingering hints of coffee and hazelnut mingled as they sought nothing more than comfort. Promises were murmured along with endearments. They were home, together, where they belonged.

Gibbs' phone rang. It was dispatch. Tony climbed off of Gibbs and offered him a hand up, grumbling about dispatch having lousy timing. Gibbs wrote down the information given to him on the small notepad that accompanied him everywhere he went. He tore the page out and shoved it into Tony's hand.

"Let's go. Dead Marine at Quantico. Call McGee. Have him pick up Ziva in the truck. I'll call Ducky," Gibbs ordered as he headed for the stairs.

Tony took a last parting glance around the basement. Following Gibbs up the stairs, he stated, "I still haven't figured out how we're going to get a boat out of here."


End file.
